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MEMOIRS 

OF 

SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS, 

KNT.  L.L.D.  F.R.S.  F.S.A.  &c. 

LATE  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY. 

COMPRISING 

ORIGINAL  ANECDOTES, 

OF 
MANY  DISTINGUISHED  PERSONS,  HIS  CONTESfPORARIES : 

AND  A 

BRIEF  ANALYSIS  OF  HIS  DISCOURSES. 

TO  WHICH  ABE  ADDED, 

VARIETIES  ON  ART. 


BY  JAMES  NORTHCOTE,  ESQ.  R.A. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED  BY  M.  CAREY  £?  SOJ^', 

No.  126,  Chesnut  street. 

June  J  1817. 


Ar«T3 

ND 


PREFACE. 


>o®o< 


My  attempting  to  write  the  Life  of  so  illustrious  a 
man  as  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds — a  task  which  Burke 
declined  and  Malone  has  not  perforn^ed — a  work, 
also,  so  formidable  in  my  own  view  of  it — may  re- 
quire some  apology  for  such  presumption ;  but  the 
truth  is,  that  I  was  drawn  into  it  by  degrees,  as  we 
commonly  are  to  all  the  sins  we  commit.  I  had  at 
first  written  a  short  Memoir  on  tlie  subject,  at  the 
earnest  request  of  a  friend,  which  was  received  with 
marks  of  approbation.  I  had  also  collected  many 
little  anecdotes,  which  I  was  told  were  worth  pre- 
serving ;  and  at  length  was  persuaded  to  make  the 
present  attempt,  or  rather,  I  may  say,  pressed  into 
the  service. 

Another  motive  to  my  undertaking  this  subject 
was,  that  some  of  the  circumstances  which  I  had  to 
relate  might  help  to  clear  Sir  Joshua,  in  respect  to 
the  unwarranted  ideas,  many  persons  have  entertain- 
ed, that  he  was  not  the  author  of  his  own  Discourses, 
and  that  also  in  his  youth  he  was  particularly  illite- 
rate.    That  tiie  latter  is  far  from  the  truth  may  be 

seen  in  the  Letter  from  him  to  Lord  E ,  which 

is  demonstrative  of  a  delicate,  elegant,  grateful,  and 
feeling  mind ;  and  is  written  with  admirable  simplicity 
of  language. 

B 


iv  PREFACE. 

Familiar  letters  by  Sir  Joshua  are,  however,  very 
scarce  :  he  was  too  busy  and  too  wise  to  spend  his 
time  in  an  occupation  wjiich  is  more  congenial  to  the 
idle  and  the  vain,  who  are  commonly  very  volumin- 
ous ill  their  production  of  this  article. 

With  respect  to  the  anecdotes  which  I  have  in- 
serted in  these  Memoirs,  some  few  of  tliem,  I  hope, 
may  he  gratifying  to  the  Artist;  others  may  amuse 
the  leisure  hours  of  my  reader;  some  of  ihem,  I  must 
acknowledge  are  trifling,  and  may  not  do  either :  but 
I  have  given  all  I  could  recollect,  and  would  not 
make  myself  the  judge  by  selection,  especially  when 
I  reflected,  that  minute  particulars  are  frequently 
characteristic,  and  that  trifles  even  are  often  amusing, 
when  they  relate  to  distinguished  persons  :  therefore 
I  felt  unwilling  that  any  meraorlHl,  however  slight, 
should  be  lost,  as  would  inevitably  happen,  in  a  very 
few  years. 

It  is  my  fixed  opinion,  that  if  ever  there  should 
appear  in  tlie  world  a  Memoir  of  an  Artist  well 
given,  it  will  be  the  production  of  an  Artist ;  but  as 
those  rarely  possess  an  eminent  facility  in  literary 
composition,  they  have  avoided  the  task ;  and  the 
labour  of  writing  the  lives  of  Painters  has  been  left 
to  depend  solely  on  the  skill  and  ingenuity  of  those 
who  knew  but  little  concerning  the  subject  they  had 
undertaken,  in  consequence  of  which  their  work  is 
rendered  useless  and  insipid. 

I  sensibly  feel  that  some  parts  of  these  Memoirs 
may  be  judged  tedious,  some  parts  weak,  and  other 
parts  not  sufficiently  connected  with  the  original  sub- 
ject; but  I  was  not  so  competent  a  judge  of  my  own 
work  as  to  make  the  proper  selection  :  and  I  also  ap- 
prehend that,  in  a  variety  of  readers,  some  will  be 
pleased  with  what  others  will  despise,  and  that  one 
wlio  presumes  to  give  a  public  dinner  must  provide,  as 
well  as  he  is  able,  a  dish  for  each  particular  palate  ;  so 
that  if  I  have  given  too  much,  it  is  at  my  own  risk, 
and  from  an  earnest  desire  to  satisfy  every  one. 


^  PREFACE.  V 

The  miscellaneous  papers  which  accompany  these 
Memoirs  were  tlie  result  of  my  leisure  moments  : 
some  of  them  have  already  appeared  in  print,  and 
have  been  approved  of  beyond  my  expectations  ; 
which  has  induced  me  to  collect  them  into  this  volume^ 
and  to  add  considerably  to  their  number.  Some  few 
of  the  following  pages  which  have  been  before  the 
public  were  given  under  a  feigned  character;  these 
retain  their  original  form  without  any  alteration. 

The  subject  of  these  Essays  may  perhaps  be  con- 
sidered, in  a  great  degree,  as  of  a  confined  nature  ; 
although  I  have  attempted  to  treat  it  frequently  in 
such  a  manner  as  I  hoped  might  afl'ord  some  small 
amusement  to  the  general  reader.  In  oixler  to  explain 
my  meaning  with  more  distinctness,  I  have  given 
opinions  in  respect  to  the  arts  under  a  variety  of 
views,  and  endeavoured  to  convey  the  best  advice  in 
my  power,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  appear  least  dicta- 
torial, for  I  do  not  presume  to  be  a  teacher :  however, 
if  they  shall  prove  to  be  worth  the  consideration  of 
any  persons,  they  will  be  best  suited  to  those  who 
are  connected  with  the  study  of  the  Arts. 

In  respect  to  the  volume  on  the  whole,  if  I  should 
say,  by  way  of  excusing  its  imperfections,  and  to 
screen  myself  from  severe  censure,  that  it  was  com- 
posed in  my  idle  hours,  to  relieve  my  mind  when 
pressed  by  the  difficulties  of  my  profession,  and  there- 
forfe  ought  to  be  looked  upon  with  a  favourable  eye, 
it  would  be  asked,  "  Why  I  should  with  any  pre- 
tence to  modesty  or  justice,  suppose  that  my  idlings 
will,  in  any  degree,  occupy  the  attention,  or  con- 
tribute to  the  amusement,  of  an  enlightened  puLlic  ?" 
And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  I  declare  that  it  has  cost 
me  infinite  pains  and  labour,  and  that  I  now  humbly 
and  respectfully  offer  it  to  the  experienced  world  as 
the  very  utmost  I  could  produce,  after  all  my  most 
earnest  endeavours,  it  may  then  very  reasonably  be 
said,  that  I  ought  to  have  performed  my  task  much 
better,  as  the  eiiect  is  by  no  means  answerable  to  such 
labour  and  effort. 


vi  PREFACE. 

Under  these  considerations,  therefore,  I  shall  say 
no  more  on  this  subject ;  but  calmly  submit  the  work 
to  the  animadversion  of  the  public,  and  rest  perfectly 
satisfied  with  their  decision,  as  on  the  verdict  of  the 
purest  jury,  and  one  from  whose  judgment  there  can 
be  no  appeal. 


MEMOIRS 


OF 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


►o®o< 


The  last  century  may  be  said  to  have  formed  an 
era  in  the  progressive  refinement  of  the  British  em- 
pire in  all  matters  of  taste ;  an  era  from  whence 
future  historians  will  date  our  advancement  in  the 
arts,  and  our  rivalry  of  the  most  polished  nations. 

In  the  early  part  of  that  century,  however,  so  weak 
and  puerile  were  the  efforts  of  almost  all  our  native 
professors,  particularly  in  the  Art  of  Paintins^,  as  to 
reflect  equal  disgrace  on  the  age  and  nation.  Philoso- 
phers, poets,  statesmen,  and  warriors,  of  unquestion- 
able eminence,  were  our  own  ;  but  no  Englishman 
had  yet  added  the  praise  of  the  elegant  arts  to  the 
other  glories  of  his  country,  and  which  alone  seemed 
wanting  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  British  fame.  This 
remarkable  deficiency  in  the  efforts  of  genius  in  that 
department,  may  in  a  great  degree,  have  arisen  from 
the  want  of  sufficient  encouragement — a  natural  con- 
sequence proceeding  from  the  customs  and  manners 
of  the  preceding  ages.  What  the  fury  of  Henry  the 
Eighth  had  spared  at  the  Reformation,  was  condemn- 
ed by  the  Puritans,  and  the  Arts,  long  disturbed  by 
civil  commotions,  were,  in  a  manner,  expelled  from 
Great  Britain,  or  lay  neglected  in  the  sensual  gal- 
lantry of  the  restored  court  of  Charles  the  Second : 
nor  were  its  hopes  revived  by  the  party  contentions 


8  MEMOIRS  OF 

that  imraed lately  followed  and  wholly  occupied  the 
attention  of  all  men,  rendering  them  unfit  to  relish,  and 
without  the  leisure  to  protect,  the  fine  arts. 

In  illustration  of  this,  I  may  add  the  observation  of 
an  rxcellenl  author,  that  no  set  of  men  can  have  a  due 
regard  for  the  Fine  Arts  who  are  more  enslaved  by 
the  pleasures  arising  from  the  grosser  senses  than 
from  those  springing  from,  or  connected  with,  reflec- 
tion. The  interests  of  intemperance  and  study  are  so 
opposite,  that  they  cannot  exist  together  in  the  same 
mind,  or,  at  least,  in  such  degree  as  to  produce  any 
advantages  to  the  agent.  When  we  indulge  our 
grosser  -appetites  beyond  what  we  ought,  we  are 
dragged  to  contrition  through  the  medium  of  anguish, 
and  forego  or  violate  that  dignified  calmness  of  the 
system  which  is  only  compatible  with  an  honourable 
ambition — tiie  sorceries  of  Circe,  or  the  orgies  of  Bac- 
chus, cannot  administer  or  infuse  efficient  inspiration 
to  intellects  debauched  by  unhallowed  fervour ;  such 
as  sink  under  their  influence,  may,  indeed,  be  nega- 
tively contented  with  their  ignorance  of  the  value  of 
superior  merit,  but  will  never  exert  their  ability  for, 
nor  pant  with  the  desire  of  being  enviable,  happy,  or 
renowned. 

The  period  at  length  arrived  in  which  taste  was  to 
have  its  sway ;  and  to  seize  and  improve  the  favour- 
able opportunity,  presented  by  the  circumstances  of 
the  times  to  one  possessed  of  superior  talents  and 
ardour  of  mind,  was  the  fortunate  lot  of  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds :  yet,  notwithstanding  that  he  carried  his 
art  so  much  beyon<l  our  expectation,  and  has  done  so 
ranch,  we  cannot  but  lament  that  he  was  not  more 
frequentlyxalled  upon  to  exercise  his  great  genius  on 
subjects  more  suitable  to  so  enlarged  a  mind. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  county  of  Devon 
has  produced  more  painters  than  any  other  county  in 
England ;  whilst,  at  the  same  time,  it  must  be  no- 
ticed, that  till  very  lately  there  were  fewer  collections 
of  pictures,  of  good  ones,  at  least,  in  that  county,  than 
in  any  other  part  of  England  of  an  equal  space. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  9 

Of  that  county  was  Thomas  Hudson,  the  best  por- 
trait painter,  of  his  day,  in  the  kingdom,  and  famous 
for  being  the  master  of  Reynolds;  also  Francis  Hay- 
man,  the  first  historical  painter  of  his  time;  and  Mr. 
Cosway,  R.  A.,  Mr.  Humphry,  R.  A.,  Mr.  Down- 
ham,  Mr.  Cross,  all  eminent  in  their  profession.  Of 
that  county  also,  was  Sir  Joshua  Re}  nolds,  eminent 
in  the  highest  degree ;  this  illustrious  painter,  and 
distinguished  ornament  of  the  English  nation,  the 
subject  of  the  following  memoir,  being  born  at  Flymp- 
ton  in  Devonshire,  on  the  l()th  of  July,  1/^3.  It  has 
been  noticed  as  not  unworthy  of  record,  that  this 
event  took  place  about  three  months  before  the  death 
of  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  which  happened  on  the  S/th 
of  the  succeeding  October,  as  if  thus  perpetuating  the 
hereditary  descent  of  the  art ;  and  preceding  biogra- 
phers are  correct  in  stating  that  he  was  on  every  side 
of  his  genealogy  connected  with  the  clerical  pro- 
fession, as  both  his  father  and  grandfather  were  in 
holy  orders,  besides  having  a  paternal  uncle,  John, 
the  elder  brother  of  the  family,  who  was  a  canon  of 
St.  Peter's,  Exeter,  and  held  a  fellowship  of  the 
College  at  Eton;  to  this  latter,  Exeter  College  in  Ox- 
ford is  much  indebted  for  tlie  bequest  of  a  very  valua- 
ble library,  and  a  considerable  part  of  bis  fortune,  of 
which  it  became  possessed  by  his  death  in  1/58. 
There  is  a  mezzotinto  print*  of  him  scraped  by  Mr. 
Mac  Ardell,  from  a  portrait  painted  by  his  Nephew, 
now  in  Eton  College;  besides  which,  it  is  recorded 
that  his  maternal  grandfather  was  in  orders,  who  had 
to  his  wife  the  daughter  of  the  Reverend  Thomas 
Baker,  a  most  eminent  mathematician  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  one  to  whom  the  Royal  Society 
were,  on  several  occasions,  particularly  indebted. 

This  gentleman  was  the  son  of  Mr.  James  Eaker 
of  Bton  in  Somersetshire,  who  lived  in  great  respect- 
ability, and  was  stewart  for  the  extensive  estates  of 
the  family  of  Strangeways  in  Dorsetshire.  Thomas 
was  born  at  Ilton  in  1655,  and  at  the  age  of  fifteen^ 
entered  a   student  of  Magdalen,    at   Oxford,   from 


10  MEMOIRS  OF 

whence  he  was  five  years  afterwards  elected  scholar  of 
Wadham  College,  in  which  situation,  in  the  year 
1645,  he  proved  his  loyalty  by  the  performance  of' 
some  little  service  for  King  Charles  I.  in  the  garrison 
of  that  city.  In  164!7  he  was  admitted  A.  B.  but 
quitted  the  university  without  completing  that  degree 
by  determination  ;  and  having  taken  orders,  he  was 
appointed  Vicar  of  Bishop's  Nymmet,  in  Dorsetshire, 
wuere  he  resided  many  years  in  studious  retirement. 
Here  he  applied  himself  assiduously  to  the  study  of 
mathematics,  in  which  he  made  a  most  extraordinary 
progress  ;  but  was  totally  unknown  and  unvalued  in 
his  obscure  neighbourhood,  until  iGS-i,  when  he  pub- 
lished his  famous  "  Greometrical  Key"  in  quarto,  and 
in  Latin  and  English.  The  Royal  Society  now  be- 
came ambitious  of  possessing  the  result  of  the  labours 
of  his  learned  life,  and  iiaving,  in  particular,  but  a 
short  time  before  his  death,  sent  him  some  difficult 
and  abstruse  mathematical  queries,  he  returned  an 
answer  so  extremely  satisfactory,  that  they  voted  him 
a  gold  medal,  with  an  inscription  dictated  by  the 
deepest  sense  of  respect.  This  venerable  mathema- 
tician died  in  1690,  and  was  buried  in  his  own  church 
at  Bishop's  Nymmet. 

Joshua  Reynolds  was  the  son  of  the  reverend 
Samuel  Reynolds  and  Theophila  his  wife,  whose 
maiden  name  was  Potter;  he  was  the  seventh  of 
eleven  children,  (five  of  whom  died  in  their  infancy.) 
and  it  has  been  said  by  Mr.  Malone,  that  his  father 
was  prompted  to  give  him  his  scriptural  appellation, 
in  hopes  that  such  a  singular,  or  at  least  uncommon 
name,  might,  at  some  future  period  of  his  life,  per- 
haps be  the  means  of  attracting  for  him  the  patronage 
of  some  person  with  a  similar  prefix.  The  good 
man's  intentions,  if  the  circumstance  were  a  fact, 
were  indeed  never  literally  fulfilled  ;  but  instead  of 
that,  had  he  lived,  he  might  have  seen  his  son  become 
an  honour  to  his  country. 

I  do  not  know  on  what  evidence  Mr.  Malone  gives 
this  account  concerning  the  introduction  of  the  name  of 


.    SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  It 

Joshua  into  the  "family,  but  this  I  know,  from  un- 
doubted authority,  (having  seen  it  in  Sir  Josliua's 
own  hand-writing,  and  therefore  shall  insert  it,  as  it 
serves  to  controvert  this  very  imi)robal)le  story,  which 
otherwise  would  altogether  be  unwortliy  of  notice) 
that  it  is  certain  that  Sir  Joshua  had  an  uncle,  whose 
christian  name  was  Joshua,  and  dwelt  at  Exeter,  and 
who  was  his  Godfather,  but  not  being  present  at  the 
baptism  of  his  nephew,  wtis  represented  by  a  Mr. 
Aldwin ;  the  other  godfather  being  a  Mr.  Ivie;  and 
his  godmother  was  his  aunt  Reynolds  of  Exeter, 
represented  also  by  proxy  by  a  Mrs.  Darly.  Mr. 
Malone  is  in  general  very  correct,  but  not  in  the  cir- 
cumstance he  has  related  as  above.  I  hope  to  be  ex- 
cused in  being  thus  minutely  particular,  as  it  serves 
to  prove  a  fact. 

The  register  of  Plympton,  however,  has,  by  some 
negligence  or  inaccuracy,  deprived  him  of  this  bap- 
tismal name  ;  for  in  that  record  it  appears  that  he  was 
baptised  on  the  30th  of  July,  and  he  is  styled  '  Joseph 
son  of  Samuel  Reynolds,  Clerk.''  It  is  diflScult  to 
account  for  this  error  in  any  other  way  than  that 
which  Mr.  Malone  has  given,  by  supposing  that  the 
name  was  written  originally  on  a  slip  of  paper  in  an 
abbreviated  form — ''  Jos.  son  of  Samuel  Reynolds," 
and  was  at  a  subsequent  period  entered  erroneously 
by  the  clergyman  or  clerk  of  the  parish. 

The  maintenance  of  this  family  of  six  children 
was  a  tax  sufficiently  heavy  on  the  slender  income 
of  the  father  who  possessed  no  other  resources  than 
those  which  he  derived  from  the  living  of  Plympton, 
and  the  grammar  school  annexed  to  it ;  tiie  whole 
amounting  to  a  very  small  sum:  for  the  church  was 
only  a  Windsor  curacy,  and  he  was  so  ill  calculated 
for  the  management  of  a  school,  that  notwithstaodin.^ 
his  possessing  a  high  character  for  learning,  its  num- 
her  was,  before  his  death,  literally  reduced  to  one 
solitary  scholar.  Yet  this  mortification,  which  might 
have  overpowered  a  more  irritable  temper,  the  gooi! 
old  man  bore  without  any  dejection  of  spirit*,  and  lie 


13  MEMOIRS  OF 

rontinued  as  much  as  ever  beloved  and  respected  for 
the  variety  of  his  knowledge,  his  philanthropy,  his 
innocence  of  heart,  and  simplicity  of  manners. 

Young  Reynolds  is  said  to  have  been  for  some  time 
instructed  in  the  classics  by  his  father,  w  ho  was  very 
assiduous  in  cultivating  the  minds  of  Ids  children,  but 
as  it  is  known  that  tlie  son  did  not  display  any  proofs 
of  classical  attainments  in  tlie  earlier  part  of  his  life, 
it  is  most  probable  that  the  mass  of  general  knowledge, 
])y  which  he  was  at  a  later  period  so  eminently  dis- 
tinguislied,  was  the  result  of  much  stndious  application 
in  his  riper  years.  A  correct  classical  scholar,  how- 
ever, he  could  not  be  consiilered  in  any  part  of  his  life. 
MMiat  he  was  wiiat  the  world  terms  a  genius,  and  of 
tlie  first  order,  cannot  be  disputed.  He  possessed 
talents  of  the  highest  kind  which  he  brought  into  full 
and  constant  action  by  a  laudable  ambition,  the 
ardent  desire  of  acquiring  eminence  in  the  profession 
which  he  had  adopted. 

It  has  been  ignorantly  said,  that  his  father  intended 
liim  for  the  church  and  sent  him  to  one  of  the  univer- 
sities where  he  received  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts. 
This  erroneous  notion  probably  arose  from  his  sub- 
sequent honorary  degree  of  LL.  D.  I  have,  however, 
heard  him  say  that  his  father  at  first  intended  hinvfor 
the  practice  of  physic;  and  that,  if  such  had  been  the 
event,  he  should  have  felt  the  same  determination  to 
become  th.e  most  eminent  physician,  as  he  then  felt 
to  be  the  first  painter  of  his  age  and  country.  Indeed 
it  was  ever  his  decided  opinion,  that  the  superiority 
attainable  in  any  pursuit  whatever,  does  not  originate 
in  an  innate  propensity  of  the  mind  to  that  pursuit  in 
[particular,  but  depends  on  the  general  strength  of  the 
intellect,  and  on  the  intense  and  constant  application 
of  that  strength  to  a  specific  purpose.  He  regarded 
ambition  as  the  cause  of  eminence,  but  accident  as 
pointing  out  the  means,  jt  is  true  that,  at  an  early 
period  of  his  life,  he  made  some  trifling  attempts  in 
drawing  from  common  prints,  but  this  cannot  be  con- 
sidered as  any  proof  that  his  faculties  were  more  par- 


SIR  josrruA  Reynolds.  43 

licularly  fitted  for  the  study  of  the  arts  than  for  any 
other,  although  it  has  been  brought  forward  as  j^mcIi. 
The  same  thing  has  been  done  by  ten  thousand  boy^^ 
before  him,  and  will  be  done  by  thousands  yet  to  como, 
without  any  of  them  ever  becoming  great  artists. 
Such  displays  of  childish  ingenuity  are  the  most  com- 
mon refuge  of  idleness,  in  order  to  escape  from  the 
labour  of  a  loathsome  task  ;  tliey  have  the  double 
recommendation  that  they  are  not  enjoined  by  com- 
mand, and  that  they  are  more  easily  performed  with 
credit  to  the  young  candidate  for  applause  as  they  aie 
not  likely  to  be  scrutinized  by  any  competent  judge 
of  their  merits. 

There  is  now  one  of  these  ve'ry  early  essays,  in  the 
possession  of  the  family,  a  perspective  view  of  a  book 
case,  under  which  his  father  has  written,  "  Done  by 
Joshua  out  of  pure  idleness."  It  is  on  the  back  of  a 
Latin  exercise.  No  wonder  it  should  appear  like 
idleness  to  his  father;  doing  that  which  you  are  not 
required  to  do,  and  neglecting  to  do  that  which  is 
considered  as  your  duty,  will  of  course  look  very 
like  idleness,  and  partake  of  it  in  a  certain  degree. 
Notwithstanding  those  little  checks  from  the  father, 
he  no  doubt  perceived  that  he  had  raised  himself  in 
the  opinion  of  his  parent,  which  gave  him  encourage- 
ment to  go  on ;  and  it  is  allowed  by  his  biographer, 
that  his  father,  who  was  himself  fond  of  drawings, 
and  had  a  small  collection  of  anatomical  and  other 
prints,  was  pleased  with  his  son's  efforts.  We  are 
also  informed  from  the  same  authority,  that  his  elder 
sisters  had  likewise  a  turn  for  the  art  before  him,  and 
that  his  first  essays  Avere  made  in  copying  several 
little  sketches  done  by  them ;  he  afterwards  copied 
various  prints  he  met  with  among  his  father's  books, 
such  as  those  in  Dryden's  edition  of  Plutarch's  Lives^ 
and  became  particularly  fond  of  the  amusement.  But 
Jacob  Cats'  book  of  Emblems  was  his  great  resource, 
a  book  which  his  great  grandmother,  by  the  father's 
side,  a  Dutchwoman,  had  brought  with  her  when  she 
quitted  Holland. 


i4!  MEMOIRS  OF 

Young  Reynolds  had  accidentally  read  the  Jesuit's 
Perspective  when  he  We^s  not  more  tl)au  eight  years 
old,  a  proof  of  his  capacity  and  active  curiosity.  Ifc 
attempted  to  apply  the  rules  of  that  treatise  in  a  draw- 
ins:  which  lie  made  of  his  father's  scliool.  a  buildina: 
well  suited  to  liis  purpose,  as  it  stood  on  pillars.  On 
showing  it  to  his  father,  who  was  merely  a  man  of 
letters,  it  seemed  to  strike  him  with  astonishment,  and 
he  exclaimed,  '^  Now  tliis  exemplifies  whut  the 
author  of  the  '  Perspective'  asserts  in  his  preface, — 
that  by  observing  the  rules  laid  down  in  this  book,  a 
man  may  do  Monders ; — for  this  is  wonderful."* 

The  surprize  he  excited,  and  the  praise  he  obtain- 
ed, naturally  inflamed "liis  ambition  to  surmount  great- 
er difficulties  in  a  field  of  knowledge  in  which,  from 
the  ignorance  of  those  about  him  in  the  graphic  art,  he 
seemed  to  stand  alone.  From  these  attempts  he  pro- 
ceeded to  draw  likenesses  of  the  friends  and  relatives 
of  his  ftimily  with  tolerable  success.  Richardson's 
Theory  of  Painting  was  now  put  into  his  hands, 
■where  he  saw  the  enthusiastic  raptures  in  which  a 
great  painter  is  described  ;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that 
he  thought  Raffaelle  (as  he  himself  has  said)  the 
most  extraordinary  man  the  world  had  ever  produced. 
His  mind  thus  stimulated  by  a  high  example,  and 
constantly  ruminating  upon  it,  the  thought  of  remain- 
ing in  hopeless  obscurity  became  insupportable  to 
him.  It  was  this  feeling  which  more  and  more  ex- 
cited his  ciforts,  and  in  the  end  produced  those  works 
■which  have  established  his  reputation  on  a  lasting 
basis.f   It  should  be  remembered,  that  at  the  time  he 

*  Of  this  school,  an  engraving  accompanies  this  work,  done 
from  an  original  picture  by  Prout,  a  native  of  Devonshire.  The 
school  itself  is  one  of  the  best  in  the  county  ;  it  was  erected  in 
1664,  by  Sir  John  Maynard,  one  of  the  trustees  of  Elizeus 
Hall,  Esq.,  of  Cornwood,  near  Plymouth,  who  gave  15001  per 
annum  to  such  uses. 

t  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Life  of  Cowley,  says,  "  That  in  the  win" 
dows  of  his  mother's  apartment,  (Cowley's)  lay  Spencer's  Fairy 
Queen,  in  which  he  very  early  took  delight  to  read,  till,  by  feel- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  45 

read  Richardson's  Treatise,  lie  could  know  nothing 
of  Raffaelle  but  from  the  praise  bestowed  upon  him  ; 
mere  verbal  criticism  could  evidently  give  him  little 
insight  iuto  the  particular  beauties  or  genius  of  Raf- 
faelle as  a  painter  :  but  the  enthusiastic  admiration  of 
the  writer  kindled  a  spark  of  the  same  generous  flame 
in  his  own  breast,  and  urged  him  to  pursue  the  same- 
path  of  glory,  because  it  was  the  first  that  opened 
itself  to  his  view. 

I  have  ventured  to  deliver  these  opinions  the  more 
freely,  because  I  know  them  to  have  been  his  own,  and 
that,  if  they  are  not  received  as  the  truth,  no  one  has 
ever  yet  been  able  to  prove  that  they  are  false.  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds's  notions  on  this  subject  have,  not- 
withstanding, been  sometimes  mistaken,  and  his 
reasonings  have  been  therefore  charged  with  inconsis- 
tency. He  never  meant  to  deny  the  existence  of 
genius,  as  this  term  denotes  a  greater  degree  of  natural 
capacity  in  some  minds  than  others;  but  he  always 
contended  strenuously  against  the  vulgar  and  absurd 
interpretation  of  the  word,  w^hich  supposes,  that  the 
same  person  may  be  a  man  of  genius  in  one  respect, 
but  utterly  unfit  for,  and  almost  an  ideot  in,  every 
thing  else,  and  that  this  singular  and  unaccountable 
faculty  is  a  gift  born  with  us,  which  does  not  need  the 
assistance  of  pains  or  culture,  time  or  accident,  to  im- 
prove and  perfect  it. 

As  he  had  shown  so  early  an  inclination  towards 
the  arts,  a  neighbour  and  friend  of  the  family  (a  Mr. 
Cranch)  advised  the  father  to  send  his  son  to  London, 
to  be  placed  under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  Hudson,  a  well 

ing  the  charms  of  verse,  he  became,  as  he  relates,  irrecoverably 
a  poet.  Such  are  the  accidents  which,  sometimes  remembered, 
and  perhaps  sometimes  forgotten,  produce  that  particular  de- 
signation of  mind,  and  propensity  for  some  certain  science  or 
employment,  which  is  commonly  called  genius.  The  true  ge- 
nius is  a  mind  of  large  general  powers,  accidentally  deter- 
mined to  some  particular  direction.  Sir  Joshua  Renolds  had  the 
tjrst  fondness  for  his  art  excited  by  tlte  perusal  of  Richardson's 
Treatise." 


IG  MEMOIRS  OF 

known  painter  of  portraits,  who  was  also  a  native  of 
Devonshire.  Tliis  advice  was  followed,  and  Hud- 
son's consent  beinn;  obtained,  young  Reynolds  was 
sent  to  receive  instruction  from  liis  preceptor :  with 
this  view  he  first  visited  the  ca])ital  on  the>  llth  of 
October,  17^-1)  when  he  was  not  quite  eighteen  years 
of  age  ;  and  on  the  18th  of  tiiat  month,  the  day  of  Hi. 
Luke  the  patron  of  painters,  was  placed  with  his 
instructor. 

In  order  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  state  of 
the  arts  at  that  time,  it  must  be  observed,  that  Hud- 
son was  then  the  greatest  painter  in  England ;  and 
the  qualification  that  enabled  him  to  hold  this  decided 
pre-eminence,  was  the  ability  of  producing  a  likeness 
with  tiiat  kind  of  address  which,  by  the  vulgar,  is 
considered  as  flattering  to  the  person.  But  after 
having  painted  the  head,  Hudson's  genius  failed  him, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  apply  to  one  Vanhaaken  to 
put  it  on  the  shoulders  and  to  finish  the  drapery,  of 
both  which  he  w  as  himself  totally  incapable.  Un- 
luckily Vanhaaken  died,  and  for  a  time  Hudson  was 
driven  almost  to  despair,  and  feared  he  must  have 
quitted  his  lucrative  employment :  he  was,  however, 
fortunate  enough  to  meet  with  another  drapery- 
painter,  named  Roth,  who,  though  not  so  expert  as 
tlie  former,  was  yet  sufficiently  qualified  to  carry  on 
the  manufactory. 

Such  were  the  barren  sources  of  instruction  at  the 
time  when  Reynolds  first  came  to  London  to  be  in- 
spired by  the  genius  of  Hudson  !  It  should  be  re- 
marked, however  of  Hudson,  that  though  not  a  good 
painter  himself,  yet  out  of  his  school  were  produced 
several  very  excellent  ones,  viz.,  Reynolds,  Morti- 
mer, and  Wright  of  Derby,  who  at  that  time  formed 
a  matchless  triumvirate. 

Yet  it  appears  that  Hudson's  instructions  were 
evidently  not  of  the  first  rate,  nor  his  advice  to  his 
young  pupil  very  judicious,  when  we  find  that,  prob- 
ably from  pure  ignorance,  instead  of  directing  him  to 
study  from  the  antique  models,  he  recommended  to 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  41J' 

him  the  careful  copying  of  Giiercino's  drawings,  thus 
trifling  his  time  away ;  this  instance  serves  to  sh(t\v 
the  deplorable  state  of  the  arts  at  that  time  in  this 
country:  however,  the  youthful  and  tractable  pupil 
executed  his  task  with  such  skill,  that  many  of  those 
early  productions  are  now  preserved  in  the  cabinets 
of  the  curious  in  this  kingdom ;  most  of  which  are 
actually  considered  as  originals  by  that  master. 

He  could  not  escape,  indeed,  without  the  ordinary 
fate  of  excellence,  that  of  exciting  jealousy  even  in 
the  breast  of  his  master;  who,  as  it  is  related,  having 
seen  an  head,  painted  whilst  he  was  yet  a  pupil,  from 
an  elderly  female  servant  in  the  family,  in  which  he 
discovered  a  taste  superior  to  that  of  the  painters  of 
the  day,  foretold  the  future  success  of  his  pupil,  but 
not  witiiout  feeling,  and  afterwards  displaying,  in  his 
behaviour  to  his  young  rival,  some  strong  symptoms 
of  that  ungenerous  passion. 

AVhen  young  Reynolds  first  came  to  London,  he 
was  sent  by  his  master  to  make  a  purchase  for  him  at 
a  sale  of  pictures,  and  it  being  a  collection  of  some 
consequence,  the  auction-room  was  uncommonly 
crowded.  Reynolds  was  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
room,  near  the  auctioneer,  when  he  perceived  a  con- 
siderable bustle  at  the  farther  part  of  the  room,  near 
the  door,  which  he  could  not  account  for,  and  at  first 
thought  somebody  had  fainted,  as  the  crowd  and  heat 
were  so  great.  However  he  soon  heard  the  name  of 
"  Mr.  Pope,  Mr.  Pope,''  whispered  from  every 
mouth,  for  it  was  Mr.  Pope  himself  who  then  entered 
the  room.  Immediately  every  person  drew  back  to 
make  a  free  passage  for  the  distinguished  poet,  and 
all  those  on  each  side  held  out  tlieir  hands  for  him  to 
touch  as  he  passed ;  Reynolds,  although  not  in  tiie 
front  row,  put  out  his  hand  also,  under  the  arm  of  the 
person  who  stood  before  him,  and  Pope  took  hold  of 
his  hand,  as  he  likewise  did  to  all  as  he  passed. 
This  was  the  only  time  that  Reynolds  ever  saw  that 
great  moralist.— Pity  that  Pope  had  not  known  the 
future  importance  of  the  hand  he  then  received  in  his 
own  ! 


18  MEiMOlRS  OF 

The  above  anecdote  I  heard  from  Sir  Joshua 
himself. 

Reynolds  continued  only  two  years  with  his  mas- 
ter, in  which  time  he  made  so  rapid  a  progress,  that 
the  picture  of  his  paintiiiii;,  already  noticed,  having 
been  accidentally  seen  in  Hudson^s  gallery,  it  obtain- 
ed so  universal  a  preference,  that  the  preceptor  im- 
mediately grew  doubly  jealous  of  his  pupil's  excel- 
lence,  and  on  that  account  tlijey  soon  afterwards  parted. 
Reynolds  returned  to  Devonshire,  where  he  is  said, 
by  his  biographer,  to  have  dissipated  the  three  follow- 
ing years,  making  little  effort  and  as  little  improve- 
ment, to  the  great  disquiet  of  his  conscience  after- 
wards. Yet  it  is  well  known,  that  during  the  period 
here  spoken  of,  he  produced  a  great  many  portraits, 
particularly  one  of  a  boy  reading  by  a  reflected  light,* 
and  several  others  which  are  undoubtedly  very  fine, 
as  he  himself  acknowledged  on  seeing  them  at  the 
distance  of  thirty  years  ;  when  he  lamented  that  in  so 
great  a  length  of  time  he  had  made  so  little  progress 
in  his  art.  If  it  is  true,  therefore,  tliat  he  really 
lamented  his  loss  of  time  in  that  interval,  it  arose  most 
probably  from  a  regret  that  he  iiad  not  sooner  estab- 
lished himself  in  London,  which  he  always  consider- 
ed as  the  proper  field  for  the  display  of  talents  :  and 
it  was,  besides,  his  early  and  fixed  opinion,  which 
might  add  to  his  uneasiness  on  this  subject,  that  if  he 
did  not  prove  himself  the  best  painter  of  his  time, 
when  arrived  at  the  age  of  thirty,  he  never  should. 
At  the  period  thus  fixed  upon  by  himself,  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  he  had,  at  least,  surpassed  all  his 
competitors.  At  that  interval  of  supposed  negligence, 
I  apprehend  he  was  still  making  his  observations  on 
what  he  saw,  and  forming  his  taste;  and  although 
tliere  were  but  few  works  of  art,  as  I  have  before 

*  This  painting,  fifty  year's  afterwards,  was  sold  by  auction 
for  thirty-iive  guineas.  Some  portraits  of  the  noble  family  of 
Abercorn  are  also  very  correctly  stated  to  have  brought  hini 
into  considerable  notice  at  the  above  period. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I9 

noticed,  within  his  reach  in  that  county,  still  there 
were  the  works  of  one  artist,  who,  notwithstanding 
he  was  never  known  beyond  tlie  boundary  of  the 
county  in  which  he  lived  and  died|n  was  yet  a  man 
of  first  rate  abilities  ;  and  I  have  heard  Sir  Joshua 
himself  speak  of  this  painter's  portraits,  which  are 
to  be  found  only  in  Devonshire,  with  the  highest 
respect:  he  not  only  much  admired  his  talents  as  an 
artist,  but  in  all  his  early  practice  evidently  adopted 
his  manner  in  regard  to  painting  the  head,  and  re- 
tained it  in  some  degree  ever  after. 

This  painter  was  William  Gandy  of  Exeter,  whom 
I  cannot  but  consider  as  an  early  master  to  Reynolds. 
The  paintings  of  Gandy  were,  in  all  probability,  the 
first  good  portraits  that  had  come  to  his  knowledge 
previous  to  his  going  to  London ;  and  he  told  me 
himself,  that  he  had  seen  portraits  by  Gandy  that  were 
equal  to  those  of  Rembrandt,  one,  in  particular,  of  an 
alderman  of  Exeter,  which  is  placed  in  a  public 
building  in  that  city.  I  have  also  heard  him  repeat 
some  observations  of  Gaudy's,  which  had  been  men- 
tioned to  him,  and  that  he  approved  of ;  one  in  par- 
ticular was,  that  a  picture  ought  to  have  a  richness  in 
its  texture,  as  if  the  colours  had  been  composed  of 
cream  or  cheese,  and  the  reverse  to  a  hard  and  husky 
or  dry  manner.* 

Mr.  Reynolds  and  his  two  youngest  unmarried 
sisters  had  now  taken  a  house  at  the  town  of  Ply- 
mouth Dock,  in  which  he  occupied  the  first  floor,  and 
painted  various  portraits,  some  of  which  evince  great 
capacity,  although  necessarily  embarrassed  by  the 
want  of  practice  and  executive  power.  That  of  him- 
self from  which  the  print  was  taken,  accompanying 
this  work,  was  executed  at  this  period. 

He  now  began  to  be  employed,  much  to  his  satis- 
faction, as  by  a  letter  which,  at  the  time,  he  sent  to 
his  father,  who  resided  at  Plympton,  he  acquaints  him 

*  At  the  end  of  this  Memoir  will  be  found  some  biographical 
notices  of  W  illiam  Gandy. 

D 


20  MEMOIRS  OF 

witli  some  degree  of  exultation,  tliat  he  liad  painted 
liie  portrait  of  the  j2;reatest  man  in  tiie  place — and 
this  was  tlie  coinmissior.er  of  Plymouth  Dock  yard. 

Svion  after  tliis  lie  lost  his  fjither,  who  died  on 
Christmas-day,  J7^'>«  This  gentleman,  the  Reverend 
Samuel  llcynohls,  as  has  l)een  before  observed,  was 
eminent  for  his  learning  and  moral  character,  to 
Vrhicli  he  united  such  innocence  of  heart  and  simpli- 
city of  manners,  that  he  has  often  been  mentioned  as 
iinother  parson  Adams.  He  m  as  also  Avhat  is  called 
an  absent  man.  The  following  instance  was  related 
by  an  intimate  friend  of  liis,  as  occurring  on  a  visit 
whicli  ilie  old  gentleman  once  made  him  at  his  house, 
about  three  miles  from  JPlympton,  the  place  of  liis 
own  residence. 

When  jVIr.  Reynolds  set  out  from  his  home  on 
horse-back,  he  rode  in  a  pair  of  gambados,  that  is,  a 
large  pair  of  boots  of  peculiar  make,  very  heavy,  and 
oj^en  at  the  outside,  so  as  easily  to  admit  the  legs  of 
the  rider,  and  which  were  thus  attached  to  the  saddle. 
^V'hen  the  old  gentleman  arrived  at  his  friend's  house, 
it  was  observed  to  him  that  he  had  only  one  gam- 
bado:  ^'  Rless  me!''  said  he,  '*  it  is  very  true,  but  I 
am  sure  that  I  had  them  both  w  hen  I  set  out  from 
home;"'  and  so  it  proved  to  be,  as  the  lost  gambado 
was  afterwards  found  on  the  road,  having  dropt  from 
the  saddle  and  liis  leg  without  his  perceiving  the  loss 
of  it.  It  has  been  also  said,  that  he  was  somewhat 
remarkable  for  his  taciturnity.  His  wife's  name,  as  I 
liave  already  mentioned,  was  Theophila,  and  thence, 
in  order  to  avoid  superfluous  words  and  questions, 
whenever  he  would  choose  to  drink  tea  or  coflee,  he 
told  her,  "  When  I  say  'ZVie,  you  must  make  tea ; 
but  when  I  say  OJf^,  you  must  make  coffee.  This, 
however,  if  it  did  take  place,  must  have  been  merely 
as  a  jest  upon  his  own  harmless  foible. 

It  may  seem  unlikely  that  the  early  success  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  should,  in  any  measure,  have  been 
connected  with  the  politics  of  the  times;  yet  nothing 
is  more  true,  for  notwithstanding  his  own  wishes  to 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ^f 

visit  Italy,  the  mother  and  nurse  of  tlic  arts,  still  that 
event  might  not  so  soon  have  taken  place,  liad  it  not 
been  for  some  occurrences,  which,  being  so  consider- 
ably instrumental  to  the  gratification  of  his  desire, 
even  thence  possess  sufficient  importance  to  be  re- 
corded here,  as  well  as  from  their  relating  to  the 
earliest  and  most  firm  friend  Sir  Joshua  ever  had. 

During  his  residence  in  Plymouth  he  first  became 
known  to  the  family  of  Mount  Edgecumbe;  who 
warmly  patronized  and  not  only  employed  him  in  his 
profession,  but  also  sti'ongly  recommended  him  to  the 
Honourable  Augustus  Keppel,  then  a  captain  in  the 
navy,  and  afterwards  Viscount  Keppel. 

This  officer  not  having  been  paid  off  at  the  peace 
of  Aix  la  Chapelle,  which  took  place  in  1749,  was 
now  about  to  be  employed  on  a  service  in  which  all 
the  characteristic  qualities  of  his  mind  were,  for  the. 
first  time,  eminently  called  forth.  He  had  indeed  long 
distinguished  himself,  as  well  by  his  spirited  activity 
as  by  his  agreeable  and  accommodating  manners,  and 
at  tlie  same  time,  although  still  a  very  young  man, 
displaying  the  greatest  firmness  when  either  his  own 
or  his  country's  honour  was  at  hazard. 

At  this  period  the  long  warfare  in  which  almost  all 
Europe  had  been  engaged,  had  given  opportunities  to 
the  commanders  of  the  various  15arbary  Corsairs  to 
renew  their  depredations  on  the  neighbouring  states, 
and  that  too  without  paying  attention  to  the  protection 
of  any  flag  whatsoever. 

Some  of  these  depredations  had  even  been  com- 
mitted on  the  English  flag,  which  were  in  some  measure 
submitted  to;  for  though  these  states  were  even  then 
well  known  to  be  neither  powerful  nor  rich,  rendering 
it  thereby  easy  to  compel  a  cessation  of  hostilities,  or  to 
purchase  an  alliance,  yet  it  had  been  our  policy  to 
consider  it  as  not  very  safe  or  prudent,  either  to  show 
to  an  indigent  race  of  barbarous  pirates  that  they  had 
it  in  their  power  to  exact  tribute  from  a  warlike  nation 
like  Great  Britain,  or  to  engage  in  war  with  a  people 
who  might,  in  some  measure,  be  eveu  protected  by 


2,^  MExMOlRS  OF 

their  very  weakness, — a  people  upon  whom  no  repri, 
zals  could  be  made,  and  whose  armaments,  such  as 
they  were,  could  be  renewed,  as  often  as  they  were 
annihilated,  with  much  less  inconvenience  than  we 
must  have  suffered  in  destroying  them. 

Under  these  circumstances  they  continued,  during 
the  early  part  of  1749,  to  infest  the  seas  and  coasts  of 
the  Mediterranean ;  when  the  Pope  ordered  out  all 
his  gallieS  under  Monsieur  de  Bussy,  to  put  a  stop  to 
their  insults,  if  possible.  The  Genoese  too,  once  so 
powerful  as  a  maritime  nation,  were  now  actually  un- 
able to  oppose  those  barbarians  at  sea,  and  were  re- 
duced to  the  prudential  measure  of  merely  placing 
guards  along  their  coast,  in  order  to  prevent  their 
landing,  as  they  had  done  in  several  other  places, 
committing  the  greatest  devastation.  They  were  at 
length,  however,  able  to  furnish  three  gallies,  which 
they  fitted  out  and  sent  to  join  a  force  collected  at  the 
particular  instance  of  his  Holiness,  consisting  of  four 
gallies  armed  by  himself,  and  two  ships  of  war  con^ 
tributed  by  the  Grand  Master  of  Malta,  with  two 
xebecs  and  four  large  settees  from  some  of  the  other 
powers. 

Instead,  however,  of  exerting  themselves  in  defence 
of  Christendom,  this  armament  permitted  eleven  Alge- 
rine  ships  to  alarm  the  whole  coast  of  Naples,  where 
they  had  proceeded  in  hopes  of  seizing  the  king  whilst 
lie  was  employed  in  pheasant-shooting  in  the  island  of 
Procida;  a  design,  however,  in  which  they  were  frus- 
trated, though  their  insolence  was  now  roused  to  such 
a  pitch,  through  impunity,  that  they  became  totally 
regardless  of  all  treaties,  and  pushed  some  of  their 
cruizers  into  the  Atlantic  in  order  to  capture  British 
vessels. 

On  the  7th  of  May,  17^9,  the  Prince  Frederic 
packet-boat  arrived  at  Falmouth,  having  sailed  from 
Lisbon  for  that  port  upwards  of  two  months  before, 
but  had  been  captured  by  four  Algerine  Corsairs  who 
had  carried  her  into  port,  where  they  detained  her 
twenty-thi'ee  days,  on  pretence  that  the  captain  named 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  gS 

in  the  commission  was  not  on  board,  and  that  the 
money  and  jewels  of  which  they  plundered  her,  were 
the  property  of  Jews.  They  treated  the  crew,  how- 
ever, civilly,  and  did  not  rob  them;  and  at  length 
permitted  the  vessel  to  return  home.  At  this  period 
Mr.  Keppel  was  fitting  out  at  Plymouth  Dock,  in 
order  to  proceed  to  the  Mediterranean  station  as  com- 
modore; and  Mr.  Reynolds  gladly  accepted  of  an 
earnest  invitation  to  accompany  him  during  part  of  the 
voyage. 

Orders  were  instantly  given  by  the  admiralty  for 
fitting  out  a  squadron  consisting  of  the  Centurion,  As- 
surance, Unicorn,  and  Sea-horse;  in  the  former  of 
which  the  commodore  was  to  hoist  his  broad  pendant. 
It  was  intended  also  that  this  squadron  should  not 
only  carry  out  presents  for  the  Dey  of  Algiers,  but 
that  the  Commodore  should  also  be  empowered  to 
demand  restitution  of  the  money  plundered  out  of  the 
Prince  Frederic. 

As  the  equipment  of  the  squadron,  however,  and 
the  preparation  of  the  presents  were  likely  to  occupy 
some  time,  the  Commodore  had  orders  to  proceed  im- 
mediately to  sea  in  his  own  ship,  the  Centurion,  and 
accordingly  he  sailed,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Reynolds, 
on  the  11th  of  May,  1749. 

After  a  passage,  rather  tedious  in  point  of  time, 
they  arrived  at  Lisbon  on  the  S4th  of  that  month, 
where  our  young  painter  saw  several  grand  religious 
processions  and  other  ceremonies,  novel  to  him,  and 
which  he  notices  in  his  memorandums.  After  a  short 
stay  at  Lisbon,  they  proceeded  towards  Gibraltar, 
where  they  arrived  on  the  9th  of  June,  and  after  a  few 
weeks  got  under  weigh  for  Algiers,  in  order  to  execute 
the  Commodore's  commission.  There  they  arrived  on 
the  20th  of  July,  and  Mr.  Reynolds  accompanied  the 
Commodore  in  his  visit  of  state,  when  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  being  introduced  to  the  Dey  in  the 
usual  form ;  but  the  most  friendly  assurances  being 
held  out.  Commodore  Keppel  thought  it  unnecessary 
to  make  any  longer  stay,  and  immediately  sailed  for 


51  MEMOIRS  OF 

Port  Mahon  in  the  island  of  Minorca,  at  wliifli  place 
Mr.  Reynolds  went  on  shore  to  live  on  the  S3rd  of 
August. 

Here  the  friendship  of  the  Commodore,  as  well  as 
)iis  own  merit,  soon  introduced  him  to  notice,  and  he 
was  employed  busily  in  painting  the  portraits  of  al- 
most all  tiie  oificeis  in  the  garrison,  and  on  the  station, 
much  to  the  improvement  of  his  skill  and  fortune. 

To  General  Blakeney,  the  Governor,  he  was  much 
indebted  for  polite  attention ;  as  that  gentleman  not 
only  insisted  on  his  not  being  at  any  expence  during 
his  stay  on  the  island  for  (piarters,  but  also  pressed 
him  to  a  constant  seat  at  his  own  table. 

His  stay  at  Port  Mahon  was  however  prolonged 
much  beyond  his  original  intention,  by  an  unpleasant 
and  indeed  very  dangerous  accident;  his  liorse  having 
fallen  down  a  precipice,  by  which  his  face  was  so 
much  cut  as  to  confine  him  to  his  room.  At  this  time 
it  was,  I  believe,  that  his  lip  was  so  much  bruised  as 
to  oblige  him  to  have  part  of  it  cut  off;  from  whence 
arose  that  apparent  contraction  which  Mr.  Edwards 
supposes  to  have  been  owing  to  his  subsequent  illness 
at  Rome  which  brought  on  his  partial  deafness. 

His  recovery  now  enabled  him  to  pursue  his  origin- 
al plan,  and  he  for  a  time  took  leave  of  his  friend,  who 
had  been  literally  so  during  the  whole  course  of  the 
voyage,  treating  him  in  all  respects  as  a  brother,  af- 
fording him  the  liberal  use  of  his  cabin  and  library, 
and  introducing  him,  when  in  port,  to  the  first  circles 
in  which  he  associated. 

Before  we  follow  Mr.  Reynolds  to  Italy,  it  will  not 
be  irrelevant  to  notice  a  subsequent  anecdote  of  his 
friend  the  Commodore,  who  in  the  course  of  the  ensu- 
ing year  found  it  necessary  to  return  to  Algiers  in 
consequence  of  the  renewed  depredations  of  the  Cor- 
sairs. Having  proceeded  with  his  squadron  to  that 
place,  he  anchored  in  the  bay,  directly  opposite  to, 
and  within  gun-shot  of,  the  palace,  and  then  went  on 
shore,  accompanied  by  his  captain,  and  attended  only 
by  his  bargees  crew.   On  his  arrival  at  the  palace  he 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ^85 

demanded  an  audience,  and  on  his  admission  to  the 
Divan,  laid  open  his  embassy,  requiring  at  the  same 
time,  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign,  ample  satisfaction 
for  the  various  injuries  done  to  the  Britisii  nation. 

Surprised  at  the  boklness  of  liis  remonstrances,  and 
enraged  at  his  demands  of  justice,  the  Dey,  despising 
his  apparent  youth,  for  he  was  then  only  four  and 
twenty,  exclaimed,  that  he  wondered  at  the  insolence 
of  the  King  of  Great  Britain  in  sending  him  an  insig- 
nificant beardless  boy. 

On  this  the  youthful,  but  spirited,  Commodore  is 
said  to  have  returned  an  answer  in  so  determined  and 
fearless  a  manner  as  to  rouse  all  the  passions  of  the 
tyrant,  who,  unused  to  such  language  from  the  syco- 
phants of  his  court,  was  so  far  enraged  as  to  forget 
the  law  of  nations,  in  respect  to  embassadors,  and 
actually  ordered  his  mutes  to  advance  with  the  bow- 
string,  at  the  same  time  telling  the  Commodore,  that 
his  life  should  answer  for  his  audacity. 

The  Commodore  listened  to  this  menace  with  the 
utmost  calmness,  and  being  near  to  a  window  which 
looked  out  upon  the  bay,  directed  the  attention  of  the 
African  chief  to  the  squadron  there  at  anchor,  telling 
him,  that  if  it  was  his  pleasure  to  put  him  to  death, 
there  were  Englishmen  enough  on  board  to  make  a 
glorious  funeral  pile.  The  Dey  having  cooled  a  little 
at  this  hint,  was  wise  enough  to  permit  the  Commo- 
dore to  depart  in  safety,  and  also  to  make  ample  sat- 
isfaction for  the  damage  already  done,  faithfully 
promising  to  abstain  from  violence  in  future. 

To  return  to  our  subject — Mr.  Reynolds  now  pro- 
ceeded for  Leghorn,  and  from  thence  to  Rome. 
When  arrived  in  this  garden  of  the  world,  this  great 
temple  of  the  arts,  (where  I  have  enjoyed  so  much 
pleasure,  now  almost  fading  from  my  memory,)  his 
time  was  diligently  and  judiciously  employed  in  such 
a  manner  as  might  have  been  expected  from  one  of  his 
talents  and  virtue.  He  contemplated,  with  unwearied 
attention  and  ardent  zeal,  the  various  beauties  which 
marked  the  styles  of  different  schools  and  different 


26  MEMOIRS  OF 

ages.  He  sought  for  truth,  taste,  and  beauty  at  the 
fountaiu  liead.  It  was  with  no  common  eye  that  he 
beheld  the  productions  of  the  great  masters.  He 
copied  and  sketched  in  the  Vatican  such  parts  of  the 
works  of  Raff'aelle  and  Michael  Angelo  as  he  thought 
would  be  most  conducive  to  his  future  excellence ;  and 
by  his  well  directed  study  acquired,  whilst  he  con- 
templated the  best  works  of  the  best  masters,  that 
grace  of  thinking  to  which  he  was  principally  indebt- 
ed for  his  subsequent  reputation  as  a  portrait  painter. 
In  attending  more  particularly  to  this,  he  avoided  all 
engagements  for  copying  works  of  art  for  the  various 
travellers  at  that  time  in  Rome;  knowing  that  kind 
of  employment,  as  he  afterwards  said  in  a  letter 
to  Barry,  to  be  totally  useless — ^'  Whilst  I  was  at 
Rome,  I  was  very  little  employed  by  them,  and  that 
little  I  always  considered  as  so  much  time  lost." 

Whilst  pursuing  his  studies  at  Rome,  several  other 
English  artists  were  there,  to  the  same  intent;  par- 
ticularly Mr.  John  Astley,  who  had  been  his  fellow 
pupil  in  the  school  of  Hudson,  and  of  whom  Rey- 
nolds used  to  say,  that  Astley  would  rather  run  three 
miles  to  deliver  his  message  by  word  of  mouth  than 
venture  to  write  a  note.  Probably  his  education  had 
been  neglected ;  however,  he  afterwards  became  a  very 
rich  man  by  an  advantageous  marriage  whicli  he  con- 
tracted with  a  wealthy  lady  of  qualit^^  The  observa- 
tion of  his  biographer  on  this  event  is,  that  Astley 
owed  his  fortune  to  his  form  ;  his  follies  to  his  for- 
tune: indeed,  at  the  period  of  his  life  I  now  allude  to, 
be  was  as  poor  in  purse,  as  he  ever  was  an  artist. 

It  was  an  usual  custom  with  the  English  painters 
at  Rome  to  meet  in  tlie  evenings  for  conversation,  and 
frequently  to  make  little  excursions  together  in  the 
country.  On  one  of  those  excursions,  on  a  summer 
afternoon,  when  the  season  was  particularly  hot,  the 
whole  company  threw  ofl'  their  coats,  as  being  an  in- 
cumbrance to  tliem,  except  poor  Astley,  who  alone 
shewed  great  reluctance  to  take  off  his ;  this  seemed 
very  unaccountable  to  his  companions,  when  some 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  2"^ 

jokes  made  on  Ihs  sinSjUlarity,  at  last  obligeil  him  to 
take  liis  coat  off  also.  The  mystery  was  then  imme- 
diately explained  ;  for  it  appeared,  that  the  hinder 
part  of  his  waistcoat  was  made  by  way  of  thriftiness, 
out  of  one  of  his  own  pictures,  and  thus  displayed  a 
tremendous  waterfall  on  his  back,  to  the  great  diver- 
sion of  all  the  spectators. 

Mr.  Reynolds  was  too  much  occupied  in  his  studies 
to  dictate  much  time  to  epistolary  correspondence; 
but  I  think  it  not  improper  to  insert  here  the  follow- 
ing  letter,  as  the  first  sketch  of  one  he  sent  to  his 
friend  and  patron  Lord  E.,  written  with  admirable 
simplicity  of  language,  and  rendered  interesting  from 
the  elegant,  grateful,  and  feeling  mind  it  displays,  as 
well  as  shewing  the  absurdity  of  imputing  some  others 
to  his  pen. 

"  TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  THE  LORD  E. 
*^  MY  LORD, 

^^  I  am  now  (thanks  to  your  Lordship)  at  the 
height  of  my  wishes,  in  tiie  midst  of  the  greatest 
works  of  art  that  the  world  has  produced.  I  had  a 
very  long  passage,  though  a  very  pleasant  one.  1  am 
at  last  in  Rome,  having  seen  many  places  and  sights 
which  I  never  thought  of  seeing.  1  iiave  been  at 
Lisbon,  Cadiz,  Gibraltar,  Algiers,  and  Mahon.  The 
Commodore  staid  at  Lisbon  a  week,  in  which  time 
there  happened  two  of  th^  greatest  sights  that  could 
be  seen  had  he  staid  there  a  whole  year, — a  bull 
feast,  and  the  procession  of  Corpus  Christi.  Your 
Lordship  will  excuse  me  if  I  say,  that  from  the  kind 
treatment  and  great  civilities  I  have  received  from  the 
Commodore,  1  fear  I  have  even  laid  your  Lordship 
under  obligations  to  him  on  my  account;  since  from 
nothing  but  your  Lordship's  recommendation  I  could 
possibly  expect  to  meet  with  that  polite  behaviour 
with  which  I  have  always  been  treated  :  I  had  the  use 
«f  his  cabin,  and  his  study  of  books,  as  if  they  had 

E 


28  MEMOIRS  OF 

been  my  own;  and  when  he  went  ashore  he  generally 
took  me  with  him ;  so  that  I  not  only  had  an  opportuni- 
ty of  seeing  a  great  deal,  but  I  saw  it  with  all  the 
advantages  as  if  I  had  travelled  as  his  equal.  At 
Cadiz  I  saw  another  bull  feast.  I  ask  your  Lordship's 
pardon  for  being  guilty  of  that  usual  piece  of  ill  man- 
ners in  speaking  so  much  of  myself;  I  should  not  have 
committed  it  after  such  favours.  Impute  my  not 
Avritingto  the  true  reason:  I  thought  it  impertinent  to 
write  to  your  Lordship  without  a  proper  reason ;  to  let 
you  know  where  I  am,  if  your  Lordship  should  have 
any  commands  here  that  I  am  capable  of  executing. 
Since  I  have  been  in  Rome,  I  have  been  looking 
about  the  palaces  for  a  fit  picture  of  which  I  might 
take  a  copy  to  present  your  Lordship  with;  though  it 
would  have  been  much  more  genteel  to  have  sent  the 
picture  without  any  previous  intimation  of  it.  Any 
one  you  choose,  the  larger  the  better,  as  it  will  have  a 
more  grand  eifect  when  hung  up,  and  a  kind  of  paint- 
ing I  like  more  than  little.  Though  perhaps  it  will  be 
too  great  a  presumption  to  expect  it,  I  must  needs  own 
I  most  impatiently  wait  for  this  order  from  your  Lord- 
ship. 

"  I  am,  &c.  &c. 

"  Joshua  Reynolds." 


Sir  Joshua  has  himself  ingenuously  confessed,  in 
his  writing,  that  at  the  first  sight  of  Raffaelle's  works 
in  the  Vatican,  to  his  great  disappointment,  he  did  not 
relish,  or  well  comprehended  their  merits,  but  that  he 
studied  them  til!  he  did. 

Perhaps  we  may  account  for  this  circumstance  from 
the  difference  iu  the  dispositions  of  the  two  painters : 
Raffaelle  possessed  a  grandeur  even  to  severity ;  and 
did  not  display  in  his  pictures  either  the  allurements  of 
colour,  or  any  great  effect  of  light  and  shade;  parts  of 
the  art  which  delighted  Reynolds,  whose  natural  dis- 
position inclined  him  solely  to  the  cultivation  of  its 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  g9 

graces,  and  of  whose  works,  softness  and  captivating 
sweetness  are  the  chief  characteristics. 

It  is  a  curious  circumstance,  and  scarcely  to  be 
credited  in  the  life  of  an  artist  so  refined,  who  seems, 
even  from  the  earliest  dawning  of  his  genius,  to  liave 
devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  the  graces,  tiiat  he 
should  ever  have  been,  at  any  period,  a  ciirlcaturist. 
Yet  this  was  actually  the  case  during  his  residence  at 
Rome,  where  he  painted  several  pictures  of  that  kind  ; 
particularly  one  which  is  a  sort  of  parody  on  Raf- 
faelle's  School  of  Athens,  comprising  about  thirty 
figures  and  representing  most  of  tlie  English  gentle- 
men then  in  that  city :  this  picture,  I  have  been  inform- 
ed, is  now  in  the  possession  of  a  jVIr.  Joseph  Henry, 
of  Stralfan,  in  Ireland,  whose  portrait  also  it  contains. 
But  I  have  heard  Sir  .Joshua  himself  say,  that  al- 
though it  was  universally  allow  ed  he  executed  sub- 
jects of  this  kind  with  much  honour  and  spirit,  lie  yet 
held  it  absolutely  necessary  to  abandon  the  practice, 
since  it  must  corrupt  his  taste  as  a  portrait  painter, 
whose  duty  it  becomes  to  aim  at  discovering  the  per- 
fections only  of  those  whom  he  is  to  represent. 

After  remaining  in  Italy  about  three  years,  in  which 
time  he  visited  most  of  the  principal  cities  of  that 
country,  he  returned  to  England  l3y  the  way  of  France, 
and  took  the  road  over  Mount  Cenis,  upon  which 
mountain  he  very  unexpectedly  met  with  his  old 
master,  Hudson,  in  company  with  Roubiliac  the 
famous  sculptor,  both  going  to  pay  a  short  visit  to 
Rome. 

Of  Roubiliac  it  is  a  pleasing  circumstance  to  record, 
that  his  own  goodness  of  heart  first  brought  his  ex.- 
cellent  abilities  into  notice,  and  that  his  great  success 
in  life  seems  to  have  depended,  in  some  degree,  on 
his  honest  and  liberal  conduct  soon  after  he  came  to 
England.  At  that  time  he  was  merely  working  as  a 
journeyman  for  a  person  of  the  name  of  Carter,  and 
the  young  artist  having  spent  an  evening  at  Vauxhall, 
on  his  return  picked  up  a  pocket-book,  which  he  dis- 
covered on  examining  it  at  his  lodgings,  to  contain  a 


30  MEMOIRS  OF 

considerable  number  of  Bank  notes,  together  witli 
some  papers  apparently  of  consequence  to  the  owner. 
He  immediately  advertised  the  circumstance,  and  a 
claimant  soon  appeared,  who  was  so  pleased  w  ith  tlie 
intei;;rity  of  the  youth,  and  so  struck  with  his  genius, 
of  which  he  shewed  several  specimens,  that  lie  not 
only,  being  a  man  of  rank  and  fortune,  gave  him  a 
Ijaudsome  remuneration,  but  also  promised  to  j)at- 
ronize  him  through  life,  and  faithfully  performed  that 
promise. 

On  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Reynolds  at  Paris,  he  met 
his  friend  Mr.  Chambers,  the  architect  (afterwards 
Sir  William,)  accompanied  by  his  wife,  then  also  ou 
their  way  to  Rome ;  and  whilst  there  he  painted  the 
portrait  of  Mrs.  Chambers,  which  has  since  been 
copied  in  mezzotinto.  With  this  eminent  architect, 
indeed,  he  long  continued  in  habits  of  intimacy,  res- 
pecting him  as  an  instance  of  genius  rising  in  ppposi- 
tion  to  circumstance. 

]Mr.  Chambers,  it  is  pretty  generally  known,  ^vas, 
though  a  Swede  by  birth,  a  Briton  by  descent,  having 
sprung  from  the  ancient  family  of  Chalmers  in  Scot- 
land, who  were  also  barons  of  Tartas  in  France  :  his 
father  was  a  merchant,  and  had  suflered  much  in  his 
fortune  by  supplying  Charles  the  Twelfth  with  money 
and  goods  during  his  campaigns,  for  which  he  re- 
ceived nothing  more  than  the  base  copper  coiu  of  that 
mad  monarch,  struck  for  the  purpose  in  his  various 
emergencies,  and  which  becoming  soon  depreciated, 
the  generous  and  confiding  merchant  was  involved  in 
ruin. 

At  the  early  age  of  two  years,  Sir  William  was 
brought  to  England  and  placed  at  Rippon  school  in 
Yorkshire,  after  leaving  which  he  was  appointed  to  a 
situation  nnder  the  India  Company,  which  carried 
him  to  China  :  he  then  returned  to  London,  and  soon 
displayed  those  talents  for  architecture  which  intro- 
duced him  to  the  notice  of  the  Earl  of  Bute,  who  im- 
mediately appointed  him  drawing  master  to  his  present 
Majesty,  a  situation  partly  held  also  by  Goupy ;  in 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ^ 

consequence  of  this  connection  he  soon  had  the  man- 
agement of  the  Gardens  at  Kevv. 

Sir  William  Chambers's  works  in  architecture  are 
numerous  in  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  ;  but  the 
princij)al  and  best  of  them  is  Somerset  Place,  com- 
menced by  him  in  the  year  I776,  (but  not  yet  fully 
completed.)  under  his  immediate  and  constant  inspec- 
tion, according  to  his  original  designs.  Of  his  writings 
the  principal  ones  are,  '*  A  Treatise  on  Ci\il  Archi- 
tecture,*' which  has  gone  through  three  editions — 
^^  A  Dissertation  on  Oriental  Cxardening,"'  which 
has  gone  through  two,  and  has  been  elegantly  trans- 
lated into  Frencii,  by  Monsieur  de  la  liochet,  with 
Chetqua's  Explanatory  Discourse,  in  defence  of  that 
work. 

After  parting  with  his  friends  at  Paris,  Mr.  Rey- 
nolds proceeded  for  the  British  metropolis,  and  on  his 
arrival  in  England,  which  took  place  in  the  month  of 
October,  17^^}  he  found  his  health  in  such  an  in- 
different state,  as  to  judge  it  prudent  to  pay  a  visit 
to  his  native  air,  and  accordingly  set  oft*  immediate- 
ly for  Plymouth,  during  which  visit  to  that  town,  he 
painted  the  portrait  of  his  friend  Dr.  JMudge,  a  re- 
markable fine  head,  of  which  there  is  also  a  print. 
From  this  time  a  warm,  disinterested,  and  reciprocal 
friendship  subsisted  between  this  truly  respectable 
family  of  the  Mudges  and  Mr.  Reynolds,  who  always 
held  them  in  the  highest  esteem,  and  the  friendly  con- 
nection between  them  was  kept  up  to  the  latest  period 
of  his  life. 

This  portrait  and  one  other  of  a  young  lady  were 
all  that  he  undertook  whilst  at  Plymouth,  being 
strongly  urged  by  his  friend  Lord  Edgecumbe  to  re- 
turn as  soon  as  possible,  to  the  metropolis,  as  the  only 
place  where  his  fame  could  be  established  and  his 
fortune  advanced ;  in  consequence  of  which  advice,  as 
soon  as  his  health  permitted,  he  set  off  for  London,  and 
engaged  handsome  apartments  in  St.  Martin's  lane,  at 
that  time  the  favourite  and  fashionable  residence  of 
artists,  about  the  end  of  the  year  17^3. 


33  MEiMOIRS  OF 

At  this  period,  as  it  is  recorded  of  him,  the  earliest 
specimen  lie  gave  of  his  improvement  in  the  art,  was 
the  head  of  a  boy  in  a  Turkish  turban,  richly  painted, 
something  in  the  style  of  Rembrandt;  which  being 
much  talked  of,  induced  his  old  master,  Hudson,  to 
pay  him  a  visit,  when  it  so  much  attracted  his  at- 
tention, that  he  called  every  day  to  see  it  in  its  pro- 
gress, and  perceiving  at  last  no  trace  of  his  own 
manner  left,  he  exclaimed,  "  By  G — ,  Reynolds,  you 
don't  paint  so  well  as  when  you  left  England !'' 

This  little  anecdote,  however,  we  must  consider  as 
a  jest  upon  Hudson  by  some  of  his  contemporaries,  or 
else  it  would  seem  that  he  had  improved  but  little  in 
taste  during  his  Italian  tour,  in  his  progress  to  which, 
Mr.  Reynolds  had  met  him,  but  the  year  before,  upon 
Mount  Cenis. 

The  first  pupil  whom  Mr.  Reynolds  had  under  his 
care  was  Giuseppe  Marchi,  a  young  Italian  whom  he 
brought  home  with  him  from  Rome,  the  place  of  his 
birth.  He  continued  with  him  the  principal  part  of 
his  life,  and  assisted  him  in  making  his  copies,  in 
sitting  for  attitudes  for  his  portraits,  and  in  partly 
painting  his  draperies.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  time 
he  had  a  salary  from  Sir  Joshua,  I  think  about  a  liun- 
dred  per  year,  together  with  his  board  and  lodging, 
but  left  him  many  years  before  his  death,  and  went  to 
Swansea  in  Wales,  w^here  he  practised  as  a  portrait 
painter;  some  time  after  he  returned  again  to  London, 
and  to  Sir  Joshua,  with  whom  he  continued  till  the 
death  of  the  latter;  after  which  he  completed  as  well 
as  he  was  able,  several  pictures  which  Sir  Joshua 
had  left  unfinished. 

The  picture  mentioned  above  of  a  boy  in  a  Turkish 
habit,  was  painted  from  this  Giuseppe  Marchi  by  Sir 
Joshua,  soon  after  their  arrival  in  England,  and  is  a 
great  likeness  ;  there  is  a  mezzotinto  print  taken  from 
it.  Marchi  sometimes  scraped  in  mezzotinto  himself, 
and  there  are  several  plates  done  by  him  from  the 
paintings  of  Reynolds.  He  died  in  London,  but  at 
what  time  I  do  not  exactly  know. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  33 

It  was  about  the  year  1753  that  Mr.  Reynolds  so 
much  distinguished  himself  by  some  of  his  most 
admired  portraits ;  and  he  now  found  his  prospects  so 
bright  and  extensive,  that  he  removed  to  a  large  house 
on  the  north  side  of  Great  Newport- street,  where  he 
afterwards  resided  for  eight  or  nine  years. 

This  period  was  the  dawn  of  his  splendour:  for  his 
amiable  modesty,  accompanied  by  his  extraordinary 
talents,  soon  gained  him  powerful  and  active  connec- 
tions :  even  his  earliest  sitters  were  of  the  highest  rank ; 
the  second  portrait  which  he  painted  in  London  being 
that  of  the  old  Duke  of  Devonshire.  Yet  Mr.  Rey- 
nolds, notwithstanding  this  auspicious  commencement 
of  his  career  in  London,  seems  to  have  been  annoyed 
by  the  great  celebrity  of  a  very  mean  competitor,  but 
who,  at  that  time,  was  the  pink  of  fashion.  This  was 
John  Stephen  Liotard,  a  native  of  Geneva;  he  was 
born  in  1/02,  and  was  designed  for  a  merchant,  but  he 
went  to  study  at  Paris  in  17^5,  and  in  1738  accom- 
panied the  Marquis  de  Puisieux  to  Rome,  who  was 
going  embassador  to  Naples.  At  Rome  he  was  taken 
notice  of  by  the  Earls  of  Sandwich  and  Besborough 
(then  Lord  Duncannon,)  who  engaged  Liotard  to  go 
with  them  on  a  voyage  to  Constantinople. 

At  the  Porte  he  became  acquainted  with  Richard 
second  Lord  Edgecumbe,  (who  was  the  particular  and 
early  friend  of  Mr.  Reynolds.)  and  Sir  Everard 
Fawkener,  our  embassador,  who  persuaded  him  to 
come  to  England.  In  his  journey  to  the  Levant  he  had 
adopted  the  Eastern  habit,  and  wore  it  here  with  a 
very  long  beard.  It  contributed  much  to  the  portraits 
of  himself,  and  some  thought  it  was  to  attract  cus- 
tomers. He  painted  both  in  miniature  and  enamel, 
though  he  seldom  practised  them :  but  he  is  best 
known  by  his  works  in  crayons.  His  likenesses  were 
very  strong,  and  too  like  to  please  those  who  sat  to 
him;  thus  he  had  great  employment  the  first  year  and 
very  little  the  second.  Devoid  of  imagination,  he 
could  render  nothing  but  what  he  saw  before  his  eyes. 
Freckles,  marks  of  the  small-pox,  every  thing  found 


Si  -  MEiMOIRS  OF 

its  place;  not  so  ranch  from  infidelity,  as  becanse  he 
could  not  conceive  the  absence  of  any  thing  that  ap- 
peared to  him.  Minuteness  prevailed  in  all  his  works, 
grace  in  none;  nor  was  there  any  ease  in  his  outlines, 
but  the  stiifuess  of  a  bust  in  all  his  portraits.  Thence 
bis  heads  want  air^ind  the  softness  of  flesh. 

Reynolds  gives  his  opinion  of  this  artist  thas : 
*'The  only  merit  in  Liotard's  pictures  is  neatness, 
which,  as  a  2;eneral  rule,  is  the  cliaracteristic  of  a  low 
genius,  or  rather  no  genius  at  all.  His  pictures  are 
just  wliat  ladies  do  when  they  paint  for  their  amuse- 
ment; nor  is  there  any  person,  how  poor  soever  their 
talents  may  be,  but  in  a  very  few  years,  by  dint  of 
practice,  may  possess  themselves  of  every  qualification 
in  the  art  which  this  great  man  has  got.^'  Liotard  was 
twice  in  England,  and  staid  about  two  years  each 
time. 

In  respect  to  the  laborious,  and  what  is  called  the 
finished  manner.  Sir  Joshua  used  to  add,  that  the 
high  finished  manner  of  painting  would  be  to  be 
chosen,  if  it  was  possible  with  it  to  have  that  spirit 
and  expression  which  inHillibly  fly  off  when  you 
labour;  but  those  are  transient  beauties  which  last 
less  than  a  moment,  and  must  be  painted  in  as  little 
time  ;  besides,  in  poring  long,  the  imagination  is 
fatigued  and  loses  its  vigour.  You  will  find  nature  in 
the  lirst  manner,  but  it  will  be  nature  stupid  and  with- 
out action.  Tlie  portraits  of  Holbein  are  of  this  high 
finished  manner  ;  and.  for  colouring  and  similitude, 
what  was  ever  beyond  them  ?  but  then  you  see  fixed 
countenances,  and  all  the  features  seem  to  remain  im- 
moveable. Gerard  Vanderwerf  also — how  spiritless 
are  his  figures  ! 

Mr.  Reynolds  now  exerted  his  talents  to  the  ut- 
most of  their  powers,  and  produced  a  singularly  fine 
whole  length  portrait  of  his  patron  Commodore  Kep- 
|)el,  in  which  he  appears  to  be  walking  with  a  quick 
pace  on  the  sea-shore,  and  in  a  storm.  Tiiis  picture,  by 
its  excellence  and  the  novelty  of  the  attitude,  attracted 
general  notice:  and  its  design  as  I  have  been  inform- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  35 

ed,  and  perhaps  with  some  truth,  arose  from  the  foU 
]ovving  interesting  circumstance  in  the  life  of  his  noble 
friend. 

Mr.  Keppel  having  been  appointed  to  the  command 
of  the  Maidstone  frigate  in  the  year  1746,  soon  after 
his  return  from  the  eventful  voyage  under  Commodore 
Anson,  lie  was  unfortunately  v,  recked  in  that  ship,  on 
the  coast  of  France,  on  the  7th  of  July  in  the  subse- 
quent year;  for  running  close  in  shore,  in  pursuit  of  a 
French  privateer,  in  the  vicinity  of  Nantz.  she  struck 
and  soon  afterwards  went  to  pieces.  Captain  Keppel, 
by  his  skill  and  active  exertions,  saved  the  lives  of 
his  crew  ;  but  they  were  immediately  made  prisoners  : 
they,  as  well  as  he,  were  treated  with  great  hospitali- 
ty and  politeness,  and  he  himself  was  in  a  few  v/eeks 
permitted  to  return  to  England,  when  a  court-martial, 
as  usual  upon  such  occasions,  was  held  upon  him, 
and  he  was  honourably  acquitted  from  all  blame 
respecting  the  loss  he  had  sustained. 

The  portrait  represents  him  as  just  escaped  from 
shipwreck ;  and  has  since  been  engraved  by  Fisher, 
that  most  exact  and  laborious  artist,  of  whom  feir 
Joshua  used  to  say,  that  he  was  injudiciously  exact 
in  his  prints,  which  were  mostly  in  the  mezzotinto 
style,  and  wasted  his  time  in  making  the  precise 
shape  of  every  leaf  on  a  tree  with  as  much  care  as  he 
would  bestow  on  the  features  of  a  portrait.  Fisher 
himself  was  not,  indeed,  brought  up  to  the  art ;  it  is 
said  that  he  was  originally  a  hatter:  he  has,  however, 
made  some  good  copies  of  several  of  Sir  Joshua's 
best  pictures,  particularly  those  of  Ganick  and  Lady 
Sarah  Bunbury. 

The  novelty  and  expression  introduced  in  his  por- 
trait of  Mr.  Keppel,  were  powerful  stimulants  to  the 
public  taste;  and,  as  it  has  been  well  observed  by 
one  of  his  biographers,  he  "  soon  saw  how  much  ani- 
mation might  be  obtained  by  deviating  from  the  in- 
sipid manner  of  his  immediate  predecessors  ;  hence  in 
many  of  his  portraits,  particularly  when  combined  in 
family  groups,  we  find  much  of  the  variety  and  spirit 

F 


36  MEMOIRS  OF 

of  a  higher  species  of  art.  Justead  of  confining  him- 
self to  mere  likeness,  in  which,  however,  he  was  emi- 
nently happy,  he  dived,  as  it  were,  into  the  minds, 
and  manners,  and  hahits,  of  those  who  sat  to  him; 
and  accordingly  tlie  majority  of  his  ]>ortraits  arc  so 
appropriate  and  characteristic,  that  the  many  ilUistri- 
ous  persons  whom  he  has  delineated,  ■will  he  almost 
as  well  known  to  posterity,  as  if  they  had  seen  and 
conversed  with  them.'' 

Soon  after  this  lie  added  to  his  celebrity  hy  his 
pictme  of  jMiss  fircviile  and  her  lirother,  as  Cupid 
and  Psyche,  w  liich,  it  has  been  well  observed,  he 
composed  and  executed  in  a  style  superior  to  any 
portraits  that  had  been  produced  in  this  kingdom 
since  the  days  of  Vandyke. 

He  was  now  employed  to  paint  several  ladies  of 
high  quality,  whose  portraits  the  polite  world  flocked 
to  see.  and  he  soon  became  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished painiers,  not  only  in  England,  but  in  Europe. 
For  it  should  be  remarked,  that  at  this  time  there 
were  no  historical  works  to  make  a  demand  upon  tlie 
painter's  skill:  and  though  it  may  seem  a  curious  ob- 
servation, it  will  nevertheless  be  found,  on  examina- 
lion,  to  be  one  most  true,  that  hitherto  this  empire  of 
Great  Britain,  so  great,  so  rich,  so  magnificent,  so 
benevolent,  so  abundant  in  all  the  luxury  that  the  most 
ample  wealth  could  procure,  even  this  exalted  em- 
pire had  never  yet  been  able  to  keep  above  one  single 
historical  painter  from  starving,  w  hilst  portrait  painters 
have  sw  armed  in  a  plenty  at  all  times  thick  as  '^  au- 
tumnal leaves  in  Tallombrosa." 

A  true  taste  was  wanting;  vanity,  however,  was  not 
wanting:  and  the  desire  to  perpetuate  the  form  of  self- 
complacency  crov.  dcd  his  sitting  room  with  women 
who  wished  to  be  transmitted  as  angels,  and  with  men 
who  wanted  to  appear  as  heroes  and  philosophers. 
From  Reynolds's  pencil  they  were  sure  to  be  gratified. 
The  force  and  felicity  of  his  portraits  not  only  drew 
around  him  the  opulence  and  beauty  of  the  nation,  but 
happily  gained  him  the  merited  honour  of  perpet- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  37 

Hating  the  features  of  all  the  eminent  and  distinguish- 
ed men  of  learning  then  living;  with  most  of  whom 
(so  attractive  were  his  manners  as  well  as  his  talents) 
he  contracted  an  intimacy  which  only  ended  with  life. 
In  this  assemhlage  of  genius,  each  was  improved  hy 
each.  Reynolds,  like  a  man  of  great  mind,  always 
cultivated  the  acquaintance  and  friendshijj  of  the  first 
characters  of  his  time ;  and  often  assisted  those  who 
were  in  difficulties,  hotli  with  his  advice  and  his 
purse. 

He  had  a  mind  ever  open  and  desirous  to  acquire 
useful  information,  a  sound  and  penetrating  judgment 
to  select  and  separate  what  he  acquired,  and  infinite 
industry  and  application  in  rendering  it  serviceable  to 
its  proper  purpose. 

It  was  not  my  good  fortune  to  be  personally  ac- 
quainted with  him  at  this  early  period  of  his  fame, 
when  he  first  became  intimate  with  the  (afterwards) 
great  Dr.  Johnson;  to  whom,  as  Mr.  Boswell  says, 
*'  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  truly  his  dulce  deciis,  and 
with  whom  he  maintained  an  uninterrupted  intimacy 
to  the  last  hour  of  his  life."  I  shall  therefore  avail 
myself  of  the  very  just  account  of  the  event,  as  related 
by  Mr.  Malone  in  the  sketch  prefixed  to  his  works. 

"  Very  soon  after  Sir  Joshua's  return  from  Italy, 
his  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Johnson  commenced;  and 
their  intimacy  continued  uninterrupted  to  the  time  of 
Johnson's  death.  Happeniu'j;  to  meet  with  the  life  of 
Savage,  in  Devonshire,  which,  though  published  some 
years  before,  was  new  to  him,  he  began  to  read  it," 
(as  Mr.  Boswell  has  informed  us,)  '••  while  he  was 
standins;  with  his  arm  leanins;  asiainst  a  cliimnev- 
piece.  It  siezed  his  attention  so  strongly,  that,  not 
being  able  to  lay  down  the  book  till  he  had  finished  it, 
when  he  attempted  to  move,  he  found  his  arm  totally 
benumbed."  Being  then  unacquainted  with  the  au- 
thor, he  must  naturally  have  had  a  strong  desire  to  see 
and  converse  with  that  extraordinary  man;  and,  as 
the  same  writer  relates,  lie,  about  this  time,  w^as  in- 
troduced to  him.   When  Johnson  lived  in   Castle- 


83  MEMOIRS  OF 

street,  Caveiulisli-sqiiare,  he  used  to  visit  two  ladi*  s 
who  resided  at  that  time  in  Newport-street,  opposite 
to  Revnohi's,  Miss  Cotterells,  daughters  of  Admiral 
Cotterell;  Reyiiohls  used  to  visit  there  also,  and  thus 
they  met.  Mr.  Reynolds,  as  I  have  observed  above, 
had,  from  the  first  reading  of  his  Life  of  Savage, 
conceived  a  very  high  adiiiiration  of  Johnson's  pow* 
ers  as  a  writer.  His  conversation  no  less  delighted 
him,  and  he  cultivated  his  acquaintance  with  the  laud- 
able zeal  of  one  who  was  ambitious  of  general  im- 
provement. Sir  Joshua,  indeed  was  lucky  enough,  at 
their  very  first  meeting,  to  make  a  remark,  which  was 
so  much  aI)ove  the  common  place  style  of  conversation, 
that  Johnson  at  once  perceived  that  Reynolds  had 
the  habit  of  thinking  for  himself.  The  ladies  were 
regretting  the  death  of  a  friend,  to  whom  they  owed 
great  obligations;  upon  which  Reynolds  observed, 
"  You  have,  however,  the  comfort  of  being  relieved 
from  the  burden  of  gratitude.*'  They  were  shocked  a 
little  at  this  alleviating  suggestion,  as  too  selfish ;  but 
Johnson  defended  it  in  his  clear  and  forcible  manner, 
and  was  much  pleased  with  the  mind,  the  fair  view  of 
human  nature  it  exhibited,  like  some  of  the  Reflections 
of  Rochefoueault.  The  consequence  was,  that  he 
Avent  home  with  Reynolds,  and  supped  with  him.  Sir 
Joshua  used  to  relate  a  characteristic  anecdote  of  John- 
son. About  the  time  of  their  first  acquaintance,  when 
they  were  one  evening  together  at  the  Miss  Cotterells, 
the  then  Duchess  of  Argyle  and  another  lady  of  high 
rank  came  in :  Johnson,  thinking  that  the  Miss  Cotter- 
ells were  too  much  engrossed  by  them,  and  that  he 
and  his  friend  were  neglected  as  low  company,  of 
whom  they  were  somewhat  ashamed,  grew  angry; 
and  resolving  to  shock  their  supposed  pride,  by 
making  iheir  great  visitors  imagine  they  were  low  in- 
deed, he  addressed  himself  in  a  loud  tone  to  Mr. 
Reynolds,  saying,  ^'  How  much  do  you  think  you  and 
I  could  get  in  a  week,  if  we  were  to  work  as  hard  as 
we  could P'^  as  if  they  had  been  common  mechanics. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.     '  ^9 

This  anecdote,  as  it  relates  to  Johnson,  betrays  in 
him  more  of  pride,  envy,  and  vulgarity,  than  of  the 
patience  of  philosophy,  totally  unlike  the  disposition 
of  his  companion  to  whom  he  addressed  his  speech. 

Another  anecdote,  which  I  heard  related  by  Sir 
Joshua's  sister,  serves  to  shew  how  susceptible  John- 
son's pride  was  of  the  least  degree  of  mortification. 

At  the  time  when  Sir  Joshua  resided  in  Newport- 
street,  he  one  afternoon,  accompanied  by  his  sister 
Frances,  paid  a  visit  to  the  Miss  Cotterells,  who 
lived  much  in  the  fashionable  world.  Johnson  was 
also  of  the  party  on  this  tea  visit ;  and  at  that  time  be- 
ing very  poor,  he  was,  as  might  be  expected,  rather 
shabbily  and  slovenly  apparelled.  The  maid  ser- 
vant, by  accident,  attended  at  the  door  to  let  them  in, 
but  did  not  know  Johnson,  although  he  had  been  a 
frequent  visitor  at  the  house,  he  having  always  been 
attended  by  the  man  servant.  Johnson  was  the  last  of 
the  three  that  came  in  ;  wiien  the  servant  maid,  seeing 
this  uncouth  and  dirty  figure  of  a  man,  and  not  con- 
ceiving he  could  be  one  of  the  company  who  came  to 
visit  her  mistresses,  laid  hold  of  his  coat  just  as  he  was 
going  up  stairs,  and  pulled  him  back  again,  saying, 
"  You  fellow,  what  is  your  business  here?  I  suppose 
you  intended  to  rob  the  house."  This  most  unlucky 
accident  threw  poor  Johnson  into  such  a  fit  of  shame 
and  anger,  that  he  roared  out,  like  a  bull,  for  he  could 
not  immediately  articulate,  and  was  with  difficulty  at 
last  able  to  utter,  "  What  have  I  done?  What  have 
I  done?"  Nor  could  he  recover  himself  for  the  re 
mainder  of  the  evening  from  this  mortifying  circum^ 
stance. 

Of  these  ladies,  the  Miss  Cotterells,  so  often  men 
tioned  in  Johnson's  Biography,  as  well  as  by  the  dif 
ferent  writers  who  speak  of  Sir  Joshua,  it  will  not  be 
reckoned  obtrusive  here  to  notice  that  they  were  the 
daughters  of  a  very  respectable  naval  officer,  Rear 
Admiral  Charles  Cotterell,  who,  towards  the  latter 
part  of  his  life,  was  not  employed  in  the  service, 
having  been  put  on  the  superannuated  list  of  llag- 


40  MEMOIRS  OF 

officers  in  IT'iv-  He  died  in  17^1,  very  soon  after  Sir 
Josliua's  atijiiainlance  took  place  with  his  family. 
His  first  appointment  to  the  command  of  a  ship  was 
in  1726j  when  he  succeeded  Sir  Yelvcrton  Peyton  in 
the  Diamond  frigate  ;  and  five  years  afterwards  lie 
was  removed  to  the  Princess  Louisa,  a  line  of  battle 
ship.  On  the  rupture  with  Spain,  in  1739,  he  was 
commissioned  in  the  Lion,  of  sixty  guns,  and  served 
with  Sir  John  Norris  in  the  Channel  fleet  during  the 
ensuing  summer;  after  which  he  was  ordered  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  West  Indies,  in  a  squadron  commanded 
by  Sir  Chaloner  Ogle,  for  the  express  purpose  of  rein- 
forcing Admiral  Vernon,  previous  to  the  attack  upon 
Carthagena.  Captain  Cotterell  was  actively  engaged 
in  that  service,  and,  soon  after  its  failure,  returned  to 
^England;  when,  his  ship  being  paid  off,  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  command  of  the  Canterbury,  in  17-1~. 
In  that  ship  he  went  on  service  to  Gibraltar,  and  on 
his  return  w'as  promoted  to  the  Royal  George,  in 
which  ship  he  served  for  some  time  in  the  Channel 
fleet ;  but  this  was  his  last  comminsion,  as  he  remained 
unemployed  after  her  being  paid  oif,  and,  according 
to  the  etiquette  of  the  service,  lost  his  flag,  not  being 
in  actual  service,  and  in  full  pay,  when  the  promotion 
took  place  in  1747- 

I  have  recorded  this  veteran's  services  the  more 
particularly  as  his  daughters  have  been  so  often  men- 
tioned :  and  in  unison  with  the  preceding  anecdote  of 
the  Doctor,  w  hose  external  appearance  had  so  much 
deceived  the  servant  at  the  Miss  Cotterells,  I  may 
also  note,  that  Johnson,  it  is  well  known,  was  as  re- 
markably uncouth  in  his  gait  and  action,  as  slovenly 
in  ills  dress,  insomuch  as  to  attract  the  attention  of 
passengers  who  by  chance  met  him  in  the  street. 
Once,  particularly,  he  was  thus  annoyed  by  an  im- 
pertinent fellow,  who  noticed  ijim,  and  insultingly 
imitated  him  in  derision  so  ludicrously,  that  the  Doc- 
tor could  not  avoid  seeing  it,  and  was  obliged  to 
resent  it,  which  he  did  in  this  manner:  "Ah!"  said 
Johnson.  "^  vou  are  a  weak  fellow,  and  I  will  con- 


I 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  4i 

viiice  you  of  it;"  when  immediately  he  gave  him  a 
blow,  which  knocked  the  man  out  of  the  foot-path 
into  the  dirty  street  flat  on  his  back,  and  the  Doctor 
walked  calmly  on. 

Another  circumstance  Sir  Joshua  used  to  mention 
relative  to  Dr.  Johnson,  which  gives  an  idea  of  the 
situation  and  mode  of  living  of  that  great  philosopher 
in  the  early  part  of  his  life. 

Roubiliac,  the  famous  sculptor,  desired  of  Sir 
Joshua  that  lie  would  introduce  him  to  Dr.  Johnson, 
at  the  time  when  the  Doctor  lived  in  Gough-sqiiare, 
Fleet-street.  His  object  was  to  prevail  on  Johnson  to 
write  an  epitaph  for  a  monument,  on  which  Iloubiliac 
was  then  engaged  for  Westminster  Abbey.  Sir  Joshua 
accordingly  introduced  the  Sculptor  to  the  Doctor, 
they  being  strangers  to  each  other,  and  Johnson  re- 
ceived him  with  much  civility,  and  took  them  up  into 
a  garret,  which  he  considered  as  his  library;  in  which, 
besides  his  books,  all  covered  with  dust,  there  was  au 
old  crazy  deal  table,  and  a  still  worse  and  older  elbow 
chair,  having  only  three  legs.  In  this  chair  Johnson 
seated  himself,  after  having,  with  considerable  dex- 
terity and  evident  practice,  first  drawn  it  up  against  the 
w  all,  which  served  to  support  it  on  tliat  side  on  which 
the  leg  was  deficient.  He  then  took  up  his  pen,  and 
demanded  what  they  wanted  him  to  write.  On  this 
Koubiliac,  who  was  a  true  Frenchman,  (as  may  be 
seen  by  his  works,)  began  a  most  bombastic  and 
ridiculous  harangue,  on  what  he  thought  should  be 
the  kind  of  epitaph  most  proper  for  the  purpose,  all 
wliicli  the  Doctor  was  to  write  down  for  him  in  correct 
language;  when  Johnson,  who  could  not  sulTer  any 
one  to  dictate  to  him,  quickly  interrupted  him  in  an 
angry  tone  of  voice,  saying,  ^^  Come,  come,  Sir,  let  us 
have  no  more  of  this  bombastic,  ridiculous  rhodoraon- 
tade,  but  let  me  know,  in  simple  language,  the  name, 
character,  and  quality,  of  the  person  whose  epitaph 
you  intend  to  have  me  write." 

Such  was  the  first  interview  of  two  men  both  emi- 
nent for  genius ;  and  of  lloubiliac  I  may  here  record 


4S  MExMOIRS  OF 

another  anecdote  which  took  place  on  tlie  return  of 
that  Sculptor  from  Rome,  when  he  paid  a  visit  to 
Heynolds,  and  expressed  himself  in  raptures  on  what 
he  had  seen  on  the  Continent — on  the  exquisite  beauty 
of  the  works  of  antiquity,  and  the  captivating  and 
luxuriant  splendour  of  Bernini.  "  It  is  natural  to 
suppose,"  said  he,  ^^  that  I  was  infinitely  impatient 
till  I  had  taken  a  survey  of  ray  own  performances  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  after  having  seen  such  a  variety 

of  excellence,  and  by  G my  own  work  looked  to 

me  meagre  and  starved,  as  if  made  of  notliing  but 
tobacco-pipes." 

A  strong  proof  this  of  the  improvement  he  liad 
gained  from  his  tour  to  tlie  Continent,  of  his  candor, 
and  uncommon  humility. 

Doctor  Johnson  had  a  great  desire  to  cultivate  the 
friendship  of  llichardson,  the  author  of  Clarissa,  and 
with  this  view  paid  him  frequent  visits.  These  were 
received  very  coldly  by  the  latter ;  "  but,"  observed 
the  Doctor  (in  speaking  of  this  to  a  friend,)  "  I  was 
determined  to  persist  till  I  had  gained  my  point ;  be- 
cause I  knew  very  well,  that  when  I  had  once  over- 
come his  reluctance  and  shyness  of  humour,  our  inti- 
macy would  contribute  much  to  the  happiness  of 
both."  The  event  verified  the  Doctor's  prediction. 

It  must,  however,  be  remarked,  that  an  intimacy 
with  Johnson  was  always  attended  with  a  certain 
portion  of  inconvenience  to  persons  whose  time  was 
much  occupied,  as  his  visits  to  those  he  liked  were 
long,  frequent,  and  very  irregular  in  the  hours. 

The  Doctor's  intercourse  with  Sir  Joshua  was  at 
first  produced  in  the  same  manner  as  is  described  in 
respect  to  Richardson.  He  frequently  called  in  the 
evening,  and  remained  to  a  late  hour,  when  Sir 
Joshua  was  desirous  of  going  into  new  company, 
after  having  been  harrassed  by  his  professional  occu- 
pations the  whole  day.  This  sometimes  overcame  his 
patience  to  such  a  degree,  that,  one  evening  in  particu- 
lar, on  entering  the  room  where  Johnson  was  waiting 
to  see  him,  he  immediately  took  up  liis  hat  and  went 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  43 

out  of  the  house.  Reynolds  hoped  by  this  raeans  he 
would  have  been  effectually  cured;  hut  Johnson  still 
persisted,  and  at  last  gained  his  friendship. 

Johnson  introduced  Sir  Joshua  and  his  sister  to 
Richardson,  but  hinted  to  them,  at  the  same  time, 
that  if  they  wished  to  see  the  latter  in  good  humour, 
they  must  expatiate  on  the  excellencies  of  his  Clarissa. 

Johnson  soon  became  a  frequent  visitor  at  Sir 
Joshua's,  particularly  at  Miss  Reynolds's  tea-table, 
where  he  liad  every  opportunity  of  female  conv  ersa- 
tion  whilst  drinking  his  favourite  beverage. 

Indeed  his  visits  were  not  alone  to  Sir  Joshua,  but 
to  Miss  Reynolds,  for  whom  lie  had  the  highest 
respect  and  veneration ;  to  such  a  degree,  that  some 
years  afterwards,  whilst  the  company  at  Mr.  Thralc's 
were  speculating  upon  a  microscope  for  the  mind, 
Johnson  exclaimed,  "  I  never  saw  one  that  would 
bear  it,  except  that  of  my  dear  Miss  Reynolds,  and 
her's  is  very  near  to  purity  itself." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Miss  Reynolds  gained 
much  of  his  good-will  by  her  good-humoured  attention 
to  his  extraordinary  predilection  for  tea,  he  himself 
saying,  that  he  wished  his  tea-kettle  never  to  be  cold  ; 
but  Sir  Joshua  having  once,  whilst  spending  the 
evening  at  Mr.  Cumberland's,  reminded  him  of  the 
enormous  quantity  he  was  swallowing,  observing  that 
he  fiad  drank  eleven  cups^  Johnson  replied,  "  Sir,  I 
did  not  count  your  glasses  of  wine,  why  then  should 
you  number  up  my  cups  of  tea?" 

Johnson's  extraordinary,  or  rather  extravagant, 
fondness  for  this  refreshment  did  not  fail  to  excite 
notice  wherever  he  went;  and  it  is  related,  though  not 
by  Boswell,  that  whilst  on  his  Scottish  tour,  and 
spending  some  time  at  Dunvegan,  the  eastle  of  the 
chief  of  the  Macleods,  the  Dowager  Lady  Macleod 
having  repeatedly  helped  him,  until  she  had  poured 
out  sixteen  cups,  she  then  asked  him,  if  a  small  bason 
would  not  save  him  trouble  and  be  more  agreeable? 
—  "I  wonder.  Madam,"  answered  he  roughly,  ^*  why 
all  the  ladies  ask  me  such  questions !  It  is  to  save 

G 


4Jt  MEMOIRS  OF 

yourselves  trouble,  Madam,  and  not  me.  The  lady 
was  silent,  and  resumed  her  task.  Every  reader,  in 
this  place,  will  recollect  the  so  often  told  anecdote  of 
his  versification  at  Miss  Reynold's  tea  table,  when 
criticising  Percy's  Reliques,  and  imitating  his  ballad 
style — 

"  Oh  !  hear  it  then  my  Rennj  dear, 
"  Nor  hear  it  with  a  trown — 
"  You  cannot  make  the  tea  so  fast, 
"  As  1  can  gulp  it  down." 

Doctor  Johnson's  high  opinion  of  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds was  formed  at  a  very  early  period  of  their  in- 
timacy, and  increased,  instead  of  diminishing,  through 
life.  Once  at  Mr.  Thrale's,  when  Sir  Josliua  left  the 
room,  Johnson  observed,  "  There  goes  a  man  not  to 
be  spoiled  by  prosperity;*' — and  on  another  occasion 
he  said,  ^'  A  story  is  a  specimen  of  human  manners, 
and  derives  its  sole  merit  from  its  truth :  when  Foote 
has  told  me  something,  I  dismiss  it  from  my  mind  like 
a  passing  shadow:  when  Reynolds  tells  me  some- 
thing, I  consider  myself  as  possessed  of  an  idea  the 
more.*' 

In  1753,  the  artists  began  to  exert  themselves  to 
give  some  kind  of  public  eclat  to  their  profession,  and 
an  Academy  of  Arts  was  proposed  to  be  instituted. 
For  this  purpose  a  meeting  was  called  by  circular 
letter,  in  order  to  adopt  the  first  principles  for  its 
foundation :  but  some  jealousiies  and  disagreements 
prevented  any  thing  being  done  :  indeed,  some  invid- 
ious persons  were  so  anxious  to  thwart  every  thing 
connected  w  ith  the  improvement  of  the  national  taste, 
that  they  even  descended  to  treat  this  as  a  subject  fit 
for  caricature,  and  published  some  satirical  prints,  in 
which  they  attempted  to  point  ridicule  at  the  most 
active  friends  to  the  measure.  These  prints,  however, 
if  they  had  any  effect  at  the  time,  are  now  sunk  in 
oblivion,  and  are  no  w"here  to  be  found. 

In  1755  Mr.  Reynolds  was  still  advancing  in  fame. 
His  price  in  that  year  was  twelve  guineas  for  a  head 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  45 

only,  and  for  half  and  whole  lengths  in  proportion. 
It  was  about  this  time  too,  that  a  conversation  took 
plaee  between  him  and  Johnson,  which  may  in  some 
measure,  be  considered  as  a  kind  of  apology  on  the 
part  of  Johnson,  for  having,  in  some  degree,  forced 
himself  into  an  intimacy  ;  when  Johnson  said,  '•  If  a 
man  does  not  make  new  acquaintance  as  he  advances 
through  life,  he  will  soon  find  himself  alone :  a  man. 
Sir,  should  keep  his  friendship  in  constant  repair." 

From  a  letter  of  Dr.  Johnson  to  Bennet  Langton, 
in  the  year  1758,  we  find  that  the  fame  of  Air.  Rey- 
nolds had  so  far  increased,  as  to  justify  him  in  raising 
his  price  pretty  considerably.  He  says — *•  Mr.  Rey- 
nolds has  this  day  (January  9th)  raised  his  price  to 
twenty  guineas  a  head,  and  Miss  is  much  employed 
in  miniatures.  I  know  not  any  body  else  whose  pros- 
perity has  increased  since  you  left  them." 

Notwithstanding  Sir  Joshua's  prosperity  was  now 
so  great  as  to  occupy  the  whole  of  his  time,  yet  in  the 
succeeding  year  he  found  leisure  to  produce  his  first 
eflforts  in  the  literary  way,  consisting  of  three  papers 
for  the  Idler,  then  conducted  and  principally  executed 
by  his  friend  Johnson.  At  that  time,  indeed,  Johnson 
was  under  many  obligations,  as  well  as  those  literary 
ones,  to  Sir  Joshua,  whose  generous  kindness  would 
never  permit  his  friends  to  ask  a  pecuniary  favour, 
his  purse  and  heart  being  always  open. 

Johnson,  however,  still  preserved  the  strong  spirit 
of  independent  exertion;  and  being  at  tiiis  period 
pushed  for  money  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his 
mother's  funeral,  and  to  settle  some  little  debts  she 
had  left,  he  sat  dovv^n  to  his  *'  Rasselas,"  which,  as 
he  afterwards  informed  Sir  Joshua,  he  composed  in 
the  evenings  of  a  single  week,  having  it  printed  as 
rapidly  as  it  was  written,  and  even  not  reading  it 
over  until  several  years  afterwards,  when  finding  it 
accidentally  in  a  chaise,  whilst  travelling  in  company 
with  Mr.  Boswell.  Yet  this  work,  so  hastily  written^ 
enabled  the  publisher  to  pay  him  the  sura  of  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  pounds. 


46  MEMOIRS  OF 

I  have  heard  Sir  Joshua  repeat  a  speech  which  the 
Doctor  made  about  this  time,  and  in  wliich  he  gave 
himself  credit  in  two  particulars  : — "  There  are  two 
things,''  said  he,  "  which  I  am  confident  I  can  do 
very  well:  one  is  an  introduction  to  any  literary 
work,  stating  what  it  is  to  contain,  and  how  it  should 
be  executed  in  the  most  perfect  manner;  the  other  is 
a  conclusion,  shewing,  from  various  causes,  why  the 
execution  has  not  been  equal  to  what  the  author  prom- 
ised to  himself  and  to  the  public. 

The  papers  in  the  Idler,  to  which  1  have  alluded, 
are  tiie  numbers  7^«  79?  and  85,  written  between  Sep- 
tember and  November,  1759.  In  the  first  of  these  he 
ridicules,  with  considerable  humour,  the  cant  of  igno- 
rant and  presuming  conuoisseurs,  who,  trusting  to 
narrow  rules,  are  often  guided  by  false  principles ; 
and  even  though  these  should  be  correct,  are  still 
totally  unqualified  to  form  a  just  estimation  of  the 
sublime  beauties  in  works  of  genius :  and  in  this  Essay 
he  states  a  position  which,  given  with  his  ingenuity, 
has  an  appearance  of  as  much  novelty  as  truth,  that 
whatever  part  of  an  art  can  be  executed  or  criticised 
by  rules,  that  part  is  no  longer  the  work  of  genius, 
which  implies  excellence  out  of  the  reach  of  rules  :  so 
that,  as  he  adds,  if  a  man  has  not  correct  perceptions, 
it  will  be  in  vain  for  him  to  endeavour  to  supply  their 
place  by  rules,  which  though  they  may  certainly  ena- 
ble him  to  talk  more  learnedly,  will  never  teach  him 
to  distinguish  more  acutely.  In  laying  down  these 
positions,  he  does  not,  however,  assert  that  rules  are 
absolutely  injurious  to  a  just  perception  of  works  of 
taste  and  genius,  or  to  their  execution;  but  merely 
censures  that  scrupulous  and  servile  attention  to  minute 
exactness  or  frivolous  ornament,  which  are  sometimes 
inconsistent  with  higher  excellence,  and  always  lost 
in  the  blaze  of  expanded  genius. 

In  his  second  Essay  he  displays  a  considerable 
depth  of  thought,  and  great  quickness  of  perception, 
on  the  just  meaning  of  the  general  rule,  "  to  imitate 
nature,''    He  shews  that  a  mere  literal  adherence  to 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


47 


this  rule  would  baulk  every  flight  of  fancy  in  the 
painter,  though  these  flights  are  what  serve  to  immor- 
talize the  poet;  such  imitation,  if  conducted  servilely, 
being  a  species  of  drudgery  to  which  the  painter  of 
genius  can  never  stoop,  and  one  in  which  even  the 
understanding  has  no  part,  being  merely  a  mechanical 
eifort.  He  further  shews,  that  pahiting  has  its  best 
plea  for  claiming  kindred  with  its  sister,  Poetry,  from 
the  power  which,  like  her,  it  can  exercise  over  the 
imagination;  and  as  he  adds,  it  is  to  this  power  tha.t 
the  painter  of  genius  directs  his  aim  :  in  this  sense  he 
studies  nature,  and  often  arrives  at  his  end.  even  bv 
being  unnatural,  in  the  coniined  sense  of  the  word. 
His  concluding  remarks  in  this  Essay,  on  the  works 
of  Michael  Angelo.  contain  in  themselves  a  volume  of 
criticism,  and  displays  that  '^  enthusiasm  of  intel- 
lectual energy,''  by  which  he  was  always  moved, 
when  speaking  of,  or  contemplating  the  productions 
of,  those  masters  most  eminent  for  their  intellectual 
power. 

In  the  third  Essay,  his  definition  of  beauty  is  as 
clear  and  distinct  as  his  conception  of  it  was  accurate  : 
and  from  the  inference  he  draws — that  the  works 
of  nature,  if  we  compare  one  species  with  another,  are 
all  equally  beautiful,  and  that  preference  is  given  from 
custom,  or  from  some  association  of  ideas,  and  thus, 
that  in  creatures  of  the  same  species,  beauty  is  the 
medium  or  centre  of  all  its  various  forms — he  again 
illustrates  and  confirms  the  principle  of  his  first  Essay, 
proving  that  the  painter,  by  attending  to  the  invari- 
able and  general  ideas  of  nature,  profluces  beauty;  but 
that,  if  he  regards  minute  particularities  and  acciden- 
tal discriminations,  so  far  will  he  deviate  from  the 
universal  rule,  and  pollute  his  canvas  with  deformity. 
Indeed,  those  papers  may  be  considered  as  a  kind  of 
syllabus  of  all  his  future  discourses,  and  certainly 
occasioned  him  some  thinking  in  their  composition.  I 
have  heard  Sir  Joshua  say,  that  Johnson  required 
them  from  him  on  a  suduen  emergency,  and  on  that 
account  he  sat  up  the  whole  night  to  complete  them 


4^  MEMOIRS  OF 

in  time ;  and  by  it  he  was  so  much  disordered,  that  it 
produced  a  vertigo  in  his  head. 

The  efforts  of  Mr.  Keynolds  had  not  only  pro- 
duced an  improvement  in  the  art,  in  consequence  of 
the  number  of  professional  men  who  imitated  his 
style,  hut  had  also  infused  such  a  taste  in  the  public 
at  large,  that  in  tlie  year  I76O  they  were  content  to 
pay  twenty-five  guineas  for  a  head. 

This  improved  taste  in  portrait  painting  had  also 
extended  itself  to  other  departments  of  the  art,  which 
even  but  ten  years  before  had  been  at  but  a  low  ebb 
in  public  opinion;  for  though  the  artists  had  contrived 
to  support,  by  annual  subscription,  an  academy  in  St. 
jNtartiu's-lane,  governed  by  a  commitee  of  the  whole 
body,  yet  that  whole  body  consisted  of  but  a  very 
small  number. 

The  public  attention,  indeed,  had  been  fortunately, 
in  some  measure,  engaged  by  the  paintings  which 
several  of  the  professors  h^d  gratuitously  bestowed 
on  the  Foundling  Hospital ;  and  the  body  of  artists 
were,  from  the  result  of  this  experiment,  stimulated  to 
form  a  general  exhibition  of  their  several  works, 
which  first  took  place  in  this  year;  and  the  exhibition 
so  far  succeeded,  as  to  have  the  double  effect  of 
amusing  and  enlightening  the  public,  whilst  the 
artists  themselves  were  also  gainers  by  the  spirit  of 
emulation  excited  by  -competition :  for  as  Edward 
observes,  from  the  time  of  the  accession  of  his  present 
Majesty  to  the  throne,  the  arts  have  made  more  rapid' 
advances  towards  perfection  in  Great  Britain,  than 
ever  was  known  in  any  other  country  in  so  short  a 
space  of  time. 

Finding  himself  now  sufficiently  established  to 
move  in  a  higher  sphere,  Mr.  Reynolds  quitted  his 
residence  in  Newport-street,  and  removed  to  Leices- 
ter-fields,  Avhere  he  had  bought  a  handsome  house  on 
the  west  side  of  the  square;  to  which  he  added  a 
splendid  gallery  for  the  exhibition  of  his  works,  and 
a  commodious  and  elegant  room  for  his  sitters.  In 
this  speculation^  as  I  have  heard  him  confess;  he  laid 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  49 

out  almost  the  whole  of  the  property  he  had  then 
realized.  He  also  set  up  a  handsome  carriage ;  and 
his  mode  of  living  was  in  other  respects  suitably 
elegant. 

Johnson,  this  year,  in  a  letter  to  Barretti,  alludes  to 
the  general  exhibition  just  established,  saying — "  The 
artists  have  instituted  a  yearly  exhibition  of  pistures 
and  statues,  in  imitation,  I  am  told,  of  foreign  acade- 
mies. This  year  was  the  second  exhibition.  They 
please  themselves  much  with  the  multitude  of  specta- 
tors, and  imagine  that  the  English  school  will  rise- 
much  in  reputation.  Reynolds  is  without  a  rival,  and 
continues  to  add  thousands  to  thousands,  which  lie 
deserves,  am(mg  other  excellencies,  by  retaining  his 
kindness  for  Barretti." 

^^  This  exhibition  has  filled  the  heads  of  the  artists, 
and  lovers  of  Art.  Surely  life,  if  it  be  not  long,  is 
tedious ;  since  we  are  forced  to  call  in  the  assistance 
of  so  many  trifles,  to  rid  us  of  our  time — of  that  time 
which  never  can  return. '' 

The  cynical  turn  of  this  latter  observation  is  cer- 
tainly not  in  unison  with  the  sentiments  which  dictated 
the  former  part  of  the  passage ;  but  we  must  make 
allowances  not  only  for  the  want  of  perception  of  the 
beauties  of  painting,  which  was  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  Johnson's  near-sightedness,  but  also  for 
that  species  of  envy  which  perhaps  even  Johnson  felt 
when  comparing  his  own  annual  gains  with  those  of 
his  fortunate  friend. 

At  the  first  exhibition  opened  by  the  artists,  tlie 
Catalogue  was  the  ticket  of  admission  by  which  whole 
companies  could  be  admitted;  but  this  mode  was 
found,  by  experiment,  to  produce  little  other  than 
tumult,  and  it  was  then  considered  as  absolutely 
necessary  to  demand  one  shilling  admission  from  each 
person.  Johnson,  although  he  speaks  so  supercilious- 
ly of  the  arts,  yet  willingly  employed  his  pen  in 
composing  a  Preface  to  the  Catalogue  which  was  then 
given  gratis :  but  as  this  was  a  new  regulation,  it  was 
thought  requisite  by  the  artists  to  give  reasons  to  the 


50  MEMOIRS  OF 

public  for  this  alteration;  and,  as  Johnson  lias  done 
this  so  well  in  his  forcible  and  clear  language,  ex- 
plaining t!ie  nature  and  intention  of  the  exhibition, 
and  also  lias  given  so  essential  a  part  of  historical 
information  in  the  region  of  the  arts,  I  apprehend  no 
apology  can  be  necessary  for  inserting  it  in  this  place. 

JVritten  hy  Br.  Johnson. 

"  Tlie  public  may  justly  require  to  be  informed  of 
the  nature  and  extent  of  every  design  for  which  tlie 
favour  of  the  public  is  openly  solicited.  The  artists, 
who  were  themselves  the  first  promoters  of  an  exhibi- 
tion in  this  nation,  and  who  have  now  contributed  to 
the  following  Catalogue,  think  it,  therefore,  necessary 
to  explain  their  purpose,  and  justify  their  conduct. 
An  exhibition  of  the  works  of  art  being  a  spectachi 
new  in  the  kingdom,  has  raised  various  opinions  and . 
conjectures  among  those  who  are  nnacquainted  with 
the  practice  of  foreign  nations.  Those  who  set  their 
performances  to  general  view,  have  too  often  been  con- 
sidered the  rivals  of  each  other;  as  men  actuated,  if 
not  by  avarice,  at  least  by  vanity,  and  contending  for 
superiority  of  fame,  though  not  for  a  pecuniary  prize. 
It  cannot  be  denied  or  doubted,  that  all  who  offer 
themselves  to  criticism  are  desirous  of  praise;  this 
<lpsii'e  is  not  only  innocent  but  virtuous,  while  it  is  un- 
debased  by  artifice,  and  unpolluted  by  envy;  and  of 
tiixy  or  artifice  those  men  can  never  be  accused,  who,^ 
already  enjoying  all  the  honours  and  profits  of  their 
profession,  are  content  to  stand  candidates  for  public 
notice,  with  genius  yet  unexperienced,  and  diligence 
yet  unrewarded;  who,  without  any  hope  of  increasing 
their  own  reputation  or  interest,  expose  their  names 
and  their  works,  only  that  they  may  furnish  an  oppor- 
tunity of  appearance  to  the  young,  the  diffident,  and 
the  neglected.  The  purpose  of  this  exhibition  is  not 
to  enrich  the  artist,  but  to  advance  the  art;  the  emi- 
nent are  not  flattered  with  preference,  nor  the  obscure 
insulted  with  contempt ;  whoever  hopes  to  deserve 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  gl 

public  favour,  is  here  invited  to  display  his  merit. 
Of  the  price  put  upon  this  exhibition,  some  account 
may  be  demanded.  Whoever  sets  his  works  to  be 
shewn,  naturally  desires  a  multitude  of  spectators; 
but  his  desire  defeats  its  own  end,  when  spectators 
assemble  in  such  numbers  as  to  obstruct  one  another. 

"  Though  we  are  far  from  wishing  to  diminish  the 
pleasures,  or  depreciate  the  sentiments  of  any  class 
of  the  community,  we  know,  however,  what  every  one 
knows,  that  all  cannot  be  judges  or  purchasers  of 
works  of  art.  Yet  we  have  already  found  by  expe- 
rience, that  all  are  desirous  to  see  an  exhibition. 
When  the  terms  of  admission  were  low,  the  room  was 
thronged  with  such  multitudes,  as  made  access  dan- 
gerous, and  frightened  away  those  whose  approbation 
was  most  desired. 

"  Yet  because  it  is  seldom  believed  that  money  is 
got  but  for  the  love  of  money,  we  shall  tell  the  use 
which  we  intend  to  make  of  our  expected  profits. 
Many  artists  of  great  abilities  are  unable  to  sell  their 
works  for  their  due  price: — to  remove  this  incon- 
venience, an  annual  sale  will  be  appointed,  to  Avhich 
every  man  may  send  his  works,  and  them,  if  he  will, 
without  his  name.  Those  works  will  be  reviewed  by 
the  committee  that  conduct  the  exhibition ;  a  price  will 
be  secretly  set  on  every  piece,  and  registered  by  the 
secretary ;  if  the  piece  exposed  is  sold  for  more,  the 
whole  price  shall  be  the  artist's ;  but  if  the  purchasers 
value  it  at  less  than  the  committee,  the  artist  shall  be 
paid  the  deficiency  from  the  profits  of  the  exhibi- 
tion." 

In  1762,  the  famous  affair  of  the  Cock-lane  Ghost 
took  place,  in  which  Johnson  acted  rather  a  promi- 
nent part.  Mr.  Reynolds,  however,  had  too  little 
taste  for  those  wanderings  of  the  imagination  to  join  in 
the  absurdity  which  gave  credence  to  this  juggling 
business ;  he  therefore  escaped  that  severity  of  cen- 
sure which  very  justly  fell  upon  Johnson  and  several 
others. 

H 


53  MEMOIRS  OF 

At  lliis  time  lie  was  particularly  noticed  by  the  pen 
of  Sterne,  in  the  sixth  volume  of  his  Tristram 
Shandy,  just  then  published;  and  there  too  is  noticed 
that  want  of  stability  in  the  colours  of  Sir  Joshua, 
which  has,  in  many  instances,  been  very  severely,  and 
ometimes  even  unjustly,  adverted  to.  He  says,  "  I 
would  not  answer  for  my  aunt  Dinah,  was  she  alive, 
— faith  scarce  for  her  picture — were  it  but  painted  by 
Keynolds — but  if  1  go  on  with  my  drawing,  after 
naming  tliat  son  of  Apollo,  I'll  be  shot.''  And  agaiu, 
in  describing  the  attitude  of  Corj)oral  Trim,  in  read- 
ing the  Sermon,  he  says,  "  Not  Reynolds,  great  and 
graceful  as  he  is,  could  have  conceived  one  superior." 

In  the  same  year  Reynolds  produced  the  so  much 
celebrated  picture  of  Garrick  between  Tragedy  and 
Comedy,  to  Avhich  there  could  not  be  a  much  higher 
compliment  paid  than  in  the  opening  of  the  Epilogue 
to  the  "  Brothers/'  by  Cumberland. 

"  "Who  but  hath  seen  the  celebrated  strife, 
Where  Reynolds  calls  the  canvas  into  life, 
And  'twixt  the  Tragic  and  the  Comic  muse, 
Courted  of  both,  and  dubious  which  to  choose, 
Til'  immortal  actor  stands." 

For.  this  picture  the  Earl  of  Halifax  paid  three  hun- 
dred guineas:  but  it  has  since  been  purchased,  by 
Mr.  Angerstein,  at  two  hundred  and  fifty. 

Mr.  Garrick's  intimacy  with  Mr.  Reynolds  had 
been  now  formed  for  some  years,  and  it  continued 
until  the  close  of  the  former's  life;  of  course  I  had 
many  opportunities  of  observing  that  great  actor,  and 
of  acquiring  many  anecdotes  about  him. 

To  give  to  all  these  their  due  chronological  order, 
wouid  be  an  unnecessary  precision ;  I  shall,  therefore, 
insert  some  of  them  in  the  present  place,  from  their 
being  particularly  connected  with  tiie  subject  of  this 
biography. 

David  Garrick  sat  many  times  to  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds for  different  portraits.  At  one  of  those  sittings 
he  gave  a  very  lively  account  of  his  having  sat  once 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  53 

for  his  portrait  to  an  indifferent  painter,  whom  he 
wantonly  teazed;  for  when  the  artist  liad  worked  on 
the  face  till  he  had  drawn  it  very  correctly,  as  he  saw 
it  at  the  time,  Garrick  caught  an  opportunity,  wliilst 
the  painter  was  not  looking  at  him,  totally  to  change 
his  countenance  and  expression,  when  the  poor  painter 
patiently  worked  on  to  alter  the  picture  and  make  it 
like  what  he  then  saw;  and  when  Garrick  perceived 
that  it  was  thus  altered,  he  seized  another  opportunity, 
and  changed  his  countenance  to  a  third  character, 
which,  when  the  poor  tantalized  artist  perceived,  he, 
in  a  great  rage,  threw  down  his  pallet  and  pencils  on 
the  floor,  saying  he  helieved  he  was  painting  from  the 
devil,  and  would  do  no  more  to  the  picture. 

As  a  contrast  to  the  foregoing  anecdote  of  Garrick, 
I  remember  that  Mrs.  Yates,  the  famous  tragedian, 
when  she  sat  for  her  portrait  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
said  to  him,  "  I  always  endeavour  to  keep  the  same 
expression  and  countenance  when  1  sit  to  you.  Sir 
Joshua;  and,  therefore,  1  generally  direct  my  thouglits 
to  one  and  the  same  subject.'^ 

Once,  when  the  Bisiiop  of  St.  Asaph  was  sitting  to 
Sir  Joshua,  the  conversation  turning  on  Garrick,  the 
Bishop  asked  him,  how  it  was  that  Garrick  had  not 
been  able  to  make  any  excellent  players  with  all  his 
instructions  ?  and  Sir  Joshua's  answer  was, — "  Part- 
ly because  they  all  imitate  him,  and  then  it  became 
impossible  :  as  this  was  like  a  man's  resolving  to  go 
always  behind  another;  and  whilst  this  resolution 
lasts,  it  renders  it  impossible  he  should  ever  be  on  a 
par  with  him.'' 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  had  it  long  in  contemplation 
to  paint  a  picture  of  an  extensive  composition,  pur- 
posely to  display  the  various  powers  of  David  Garrick 
as  an  actor.  The  principal  figure  in  the  front  was  to 
have  been  a  full  length  of  Garrick,  in  his  own  proper 
habit,  in  the  action  of  speaking  a  prologue,  surrounded 
by  groups  of  figures  representing  him  in  all  the  Jif 
ferent  characters,  by  personifying  which  he  had  gain 
ed  fame  on  the  stage. 


5Jj  MEMOIRS  OF 

This  scheme  Sir  Joshua  described  to  Garrick,  at 
the  lime  he  was  painting  his  portrait ;  and  Garrick 
expressed  great  pleasure  when  he  heard  it,  and  seem- 
ed to  enjoy  the  idea  prodigiously;  saying,  "  That 
will  be  tiie  very  thing  I  desire :  the  only  way,  by 
G ,  that  1  can  be  handed  down  to  posterity." 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  however,  that  this  pic- 
ture was  never  begun,  as,  from  such  a  hand  as  Sir 
Joshua's,  the  work  would  have  been  invaluable,  sup- 
posing it  even  to  have  been  left  in  an  uniinished  state. 
But  we  may  conclude,  that  Sir  Joshua,  on  mature  con- 
sideration, foresaw  that  tlie  subject  was  not  eminently 
calculated  to  make  a  good  composition  for  a  painting. 

On  Sunday  mornings,  there  was  always  a  kind  of 
public  levee  at  Mr.  Garrick's  house,  wliere,  at  one 
time  or  other,  all  the  most  illustrious  characters  of  the 
kingdom  might  be   seen.     On   one   of  those   public 

mornings,   Mr.  B W ,  an  eminent  painter, 

paid  a  visit  to  Mr.  Garrick,  and  took  in  his  hand  his 
little  daughter,  telling  lier,  before  hand,  that  he  would 
carry  her  to  see  the  greatest  stage  player  in  the  world. 
When  they  were  in  the  room,  and  in  the  midst  of  this 
splendid  company,  the  child  ran  up  to  her  father,  and 
speaking  with  a  voice  sufiBciently  audible  to  be  heard 
by  every  one  there,  said  "  Father,  father,  be  all  these 
folks  that  I  see  here  stage- players  ?"  Her  father 
was  not  a  little  disconcerted  at  the  child's  abrupt 
speech. 

When  Garrick  once  complained  to  Sir  Joshua  of 
the  daily  sarcasms  with  M'hich  he  was  annoyed  from 
Foote,  the  comedian.  Sir  Joshua  answered,  that 
Foote,  in  so  doing,  gave  the  strongest  proofs  possible 
of  sensibly  feeling  his  own  inferiority;  as  it  was  al- 
ways the  lesser  man  who  condescended  to  become 
malignant  and  abusive. 

Dr.  Mudge,  when  in  Garrick's  company  at  Mount 
Edgecumbe,  heard  him  say,  that  his  regard  for  his 
mother's  peace  and  happiness  prevented  him  from  ap- 
pearing on  the  stage  till  after  her  death,  and  that  he 
imagined  this  circumstance  greatly  contributed  to  the 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  55 

vast  success  be  had  met  with ;  for  being  then  turned  of 
thirty,  his  judgement  was  more  mature,  and  occasion- 
ed his  avoiding  many  errors  which  lie  might  have 
run  into  had  he  begun  earlier  in  life. 

I  also  remember  to  have  heard  old  Dr.  Chauncey 
say,  at  Sir  Joshua's  table,  that  he  saw  Garrick  at  his 
first  appearance  on  the  stage  in  Goodman's-iields,  at 
which  time  he  was  infinitely  more  excellent,  more 
purely  natural  than  afterwards,  when  he  had  acquired 
many  stage  tricks  and  bad  habits. 

I  shall  here  close  these  anecdotes  with  a  curious 
though  rather  too  severe  a  criticism  on  the  manner  of 
Garrick's  performing  the  part  of  King  Richard  tlie 
Third.  On  the  morning  after  Garrick  had  appeared 
in  that  part.  Gibbon  the  historian  called  on  Sir  Joshua, 
when  he  mentioned  his  having  been  at  the  play  on  the 
preceding  evening,  and  immediately  began  to  criticise 
Garrick's  manner  of  acting  that  character.  He  said 
lie  thought  that  he  gave  it,  in  the  first  scenes,  a  mean, 
creeping,  vulgar  air,  totally  failing  in  the  impression 
of  a  prince;  and  in  the  latter  part  so  very  different  a 
cast,  that  it  did  not  seem  to  be  the  same  person^  and 
therefore  not  in  harmony  as  a  whole. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  1763,  Mr.  Reynolds 
having  impaired  his  health  by  incessant  application  to 
his  profession,  again  paid  a  visit  to  his  native  country, 
accompanied  by  his  friend  Dr.  Johnson,  with  whom 
he  was  entertained  at  the  seats  of  several  noblemen 
and  gentlemen  in  the  west  of  England. 

During  their  stay  at  Plymouth,  they  were  the 
guests  of  Dr.  John  Mudge^  who  was  then  a  surgeon, 
and  afterwards  an  eminent  physician  of  that  town;  a 
man  whose  virtues  and  various  powers  of  mind,  if 
described,  would  occupy  a  much  larger  space  than  t 
shall  presume  to  give  them  in  this  short  Memoir. 

Mr.  Reynolds's  friendship  for  the  whole  family, 
and  the  interest  he  took  in  whatever  related  to  them, 
were  of  the  liveliest  kind.  This  acquaintance  with 
the  Mudges,  both  father  and  son,  ought  to  be  reckon- 
ed amongst  the  earliest  of  his  literary  connections. 


56  MEMOIRS  OF 

Yet  though  1  refrain  to  give  way  to  my  own  grate- 
ful and  friendly  feelings  towards  this  family.  I  hope  I 
shall  he  excused  in  recording  the  testimonies  of  *wo 
such  good  judges  of  human  nature,  as  Burke  and 
Johnson,  upon  tliis  very  suhject. 

Jn  a  letter  which  tiie  former  wrote  to  Mr.  Malone, 
in  the  year  1797?  aud  which  I  here  quote  from  its  in- 
timate connection  with  the  suhject  of  my  biography, 
he  speaks  of  how  much  Sir  Joshua  ''  owed  to  the 
writings  and  conversation  of  Johnson;"  adding,  that 
*'  nothing  shows  more  the  greatness  of  Sir  Joshua's 
parts,  than  his  taking  advantage  of  both,  and  making 
some  application  of  them  to  his  profession;  Aviien 
Johnson  neither  understood,  nor  desired  to  under- 
stand, any  thing  of  painting,  and  had  no  distinct  idea 
of  its  nomenclature,  even  in  those  parts  which  had 
got  most  into  use  in  common  life.  But  though  John- 
son had  done  much  to  enlarge  and  strengthen  his 
Jiabit  of  thinking,  Sir  Joshua  did  not  owe  his  first 
rudiments  of  speculation  to  him.  He  has  always  told 
me,  that  he  owed  his  first  disposition  to  generalize, 
and  to  view  things  in  the  abstract,  to  old  Mr.  Mudge, 
Prebendary  of  Exeter,  and  father  to  the  celebrated 
mechanic  of  that  name.  I  have  myself,"'  adds  Mr. 
Burke,  '^  seen  Mr.  Mudge  the  clergyman  at  Sir 
Joshua's  house.  He  was  a  learned  and  veneitable  old 
man ;  and,  as  I  thought,  very  much  conversant  in  the 
Platonic  philosophy,  and  very  fond  of  that  method  of 
philosophizing.  He  had  been  originally  a  dissenting 
minister ;  a  description  which  at  that  time  bred  very 
considerable  men,  both  among  those  who  adhered  to 
it,  and  those  who  left  it.  He  had  entirely  cured  him- 
self of  the  unpleasant  narrowness  which  in  the  early 
part  of  his  life  had  distinguished  those  gentlemen,  and 
was  perfectly  free  from  the  ten  times  more  dangerous 
enlargement  wliich  has  been,  since  then,  their  general 
characteristic.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  had  always  a 
great  love  for  the  whole  of  that  family,  and  took  a 
"Tcat  interest  in  whatever  related  to  them." 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  57 

In  addition  to  this,  I  shall  insert  from  Ibe  periodi- 
cal obituary  of  the  day,  a  bigb  eulogy  bestowed  upon 
the  same  individual  by  Johnson  himself,  on  his  demise 
in  the  year  1769.  He  speaks  of  him  as  "  the  Rever- 
end Mr.  Zacariah  Mudge,  prebentary  of  Exeter,  and 
vicar  of  St.  Andrews  in  Plymouth;  a  man  equally 
eminent  for  his  virtues  and  abilities,  and  at  once  be- 
loved as  a  companion,  and  reverenced  as  a  pastor. 
He  had  that  general  curiosity  to  which  no  kind  of 
knowledge  is  indifferent  or  superfluous,  and  tliat  gen- 
eral benevolence  by  which  no  order  of  men  is  despised 
or  nated. 

"  His  principles,  both  of  thought  and  action,  were 
great  and  comprehensive.  By  a  solicitous  examina- 
tion of  objections,  and  judicious  comparison  of  oppo- 
site arguments,  he  attained  what  inquiry  never  gives 
but  to  industry  and  perspicuity,  a  firm  and  unshaken 
settlement  of  conviction.  But  his  firmness  was  with- 
out asperity:  for  knowing  with  how  much  difficulty 
truth  w^as  sometimes  found,  he  did  not  wonder  that 
many  missed  it. 

^'  The  general  course  of  his  life  was  determined  ])y 
his  profession;  he  studied  the  sacred  volumes  in  tlie 
original  languages ;  with  what  diligence  and  success, 
his  Notes  upon  the  Psalms  give  sufficient  evidence. 
He  once  endeavoured  to  add  the  knowledge  of  Arabic 
to  that  of  Hebrew ;  but  finding  his  thoughts  too  much 
diverted  from  other  studies,  after  some  time  desisted 
from  his  purpose. 

"  His  discharge  of  parochial  duties  was  exemplary. 
How  his  sermons  were  composed,  may  be  learned 
from  the  excellent  volume  which  he  has  given  to  the 
public:  but  how  they  were  delivered,  can  be  known 
only  to  those  who  heard  them;  for  as  he  appeared  in 
the  pulpit,  words  will  not  easily  describe  him.  His 
delivery,  though  unconstrained  was  not  negligent,  and 
though  forcible  was  not  turbulent;  disdaining  anxious 
nicety  of  emphasis  and  laboured  artifice  of  action,  it 
captivated  tlie  hearer  by  its  natural  dignity,  it  roused 
the  sluggish  and  fixed  the  volatile,  and  detained  ,the 


as  MEMOIRS  OF 

miiitl  upon  the  subject  without  directing  it  to  the 
speaker. 

"  Tlie  grandeur  and  solemnity  of  the  preacher  did 
not  intrude  upon  his  general  behaviour;  at  the  table  of 
his  friends  he  was  a  companion,  communicative  and 
attentive,  of  unaifected  manners,  of  manly  cheerful- 
ness, willing  to  please,  and  easy  to  be  pleased.  His  ac- 
quaintance was  universally  solicited,  and  his  presence 
obstructed  no  enjoyment  which  religion  did  not  forbid. 
Though  studious  he  was  popular ;  though  inflexible 
he  was  candid  ;  and  though  metaphysical  yet  or- 
thodox.*' 

Such  was  the  obituary  testimony  of  Johnson  to  the 
memory  of  a  man,  equally  and  deservedly  dear  both 
to  himself  and  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds ! 

In  addition  to  this,  I  have  myself  heard  Sir  Joshua 
declare,  that  the  elder  Mr.  Mudge  was,  in  his  opinion, 
the  wisest  man  he  had  ever  met  with  in  his  life ;  and 
so  great  an  admirer  was  he  of  the  literary  works  of 
Mr.  Mudge,  that  he  liad  intended  to  have  re-publish- 
ed his  Sermons,  which  were  out  of  print :  and  also  to 
have  written  a  sketch  of  his  life  and  character. — Pity 
it  was  not  done  by  one  who  could  have  done  it  so 
well ! 

Some  of  the  occurrences,  which  took  place  during 
this  tour,  have  been  already  narrated  by  Mr.  Boswell, 
who  informs  us,  that  Sir  Joshua  and  his  friend  were 
not  only  shewn  every  thing  relative  to  the  Dock-yard 
and  other  parts  of  the  naval  establishment  at  Ply- 
mouth, with  a  degree  of  sedulous  and  polite  attention 
on  the  part  of  the  commissioner,  but  that  the  same 
officer  also  accommodated  them  with  his  yacht  for  the 
purpose  of  a  marine  trip  to  the  Eddystone  light- 
house, which,  however,  they  were  prevented  examin- 
ing with  accuracy,  from  the  tempestuous  state  of  the 
weather. 

It  was  about  this  time  I  first  saw  Sir  Joshua ;  but 
I  had  seen  several  of  his  works  which  were  in  Ply- 
mouth, (for  at  that  time  I  had  never  been  out  of  the 
country.)  and  those  pictures  filled  me  with  wonder 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ffg 

R,!ul  delight,  although  I  was  then  very  young;  inso- 
much, that  I  rememher  when  Reynolds  was  pointed 
out  to  me  at  a  public  meeting,  where  a  great  crowd 
were  assembled,  I  got  as  near  to  him  as  I  could  from 
the  pressure  of  the  people,  to  touch  the  skirt  of  his 
coat,  which  I  did  with  great  satisfaction  to  my  mind. 

During  their  stay  at  Plymouth,  Dr.  Mudge,  in  con- 
versation with  Johnson,  mentioned  a  circumstance  of 
a  most  curious  mode  of  trial,  to  Avhich  a  friend  of 
his,  a  man  of  undoubted  veracity,  ~  had  been  an  eye 
witness :  Dr.  Johnson  desired  to  have  it  related  to 
him  by  the  person  who  saw  it;  on  which  the  gentle»- 
luan  being  introduced  to  the  Doctor,  lie  repeated  the 
circumstances,  which  were  these : — 

In  some  part  of  the  East  Indies,  a  man,  one  of  the 
natives,  was  suspected  of  murder,  and  the  mode  taken 
to  prove  either  his  guilt  or  innocence  was  this.  The 
suspected  criminal  was  brought  guarded,  and  his 
hands  bound,  to  a  public  place  prepared  for  the  trial, 
where  was  a  large  lire,  over  which  was  a  cauldron  of 
melted  lead :  into  this  vessel  of  melted  lead  he  was 
forced  to  dip  his  naked  hand,  which,  if  he  was  inno- 
cent of  the  supposed  crime,  it  was  concluded,  would 
receive  no  injury  from  the  burning  metal ;  but,  if 
guilty,  would  be  destroyed.  All  the  officers  of  the 
English  man-of-war  then  in  the  harbour,  and  of  which 
the  gentleman  who  related  it  was  the  purser,  were 
present  at  this  extraordinary  manner  of  trial,  and  tlie 
gentleman  averred  that  he  distinctly  saw  the  prisoner 
dip  his  hand  into  the  melted  lead,  taking  up  some  in 
his  palm,  and  leisurely  spilling  it  on  the  ground  at  his 
feet,  without  any  apparent  injury,  or  even  pain  to  his 
hand.  One  of  the  English  officers  present  had  the 
curiosity  to  put  a  small  stick,  which  he  held  in  his 
liand,  into  the  cauldron,  and  on  taking  it  out  again, 
found  the  part  which  had  been  immersed  in  the  metal 
nearly  consumed. 

Dr.  Johnson  heard  the  narrative  with  much  atten- 
tion, and  declar.ed  he  would  most  willingly  take  a 

T 


(50  MEMOIRS  OF 

voyage  to  the  East  Indies,  if  lie  could  be  insured  to  be 
Avitiiess  to  such  a  sight. 

It'  there  Avas  any  jugii;ling  in  this  affair,  it  cannot 
now  be  detected  ;  but  the  person  who  saw  it  was 
unable  to  account  for  it,  and  the  credulity  of  Ur. 
Johnson  made  him  a  very  fit  man  to  relate  this  story 
to. 

Sir  Joshua  having  completed  his  pleasant  trip,  and 
succeeded,  in  a  great  measure,  in  the  restoration  of  his 
health,  he  returned  to  the  metropolis  and  to  the  prac- 
tice of  liis  art ;  indeed,  the  true  enjoyment  of  a  profes- 
sion Sir  Josluia  possessed,  in  as  great  a  degree, 
perhaps,  as  any  man  ever  did ;  he  was  never  so  happy 
as  in  those  hours  which  he  passed  in  iiis  painting 
room.  He  has  often  confessed,  that  when  he  has  com- 
])lied  with  the  invitations  of  the  nobility  to  spend  a 
i'ew  days  of  relaxation  with  them  at  their  country 
residences,  though  every  luxury  was  afforded  which 
the  heart  could  desire,  yet  he  always  returned  home 
like  oi\e  who  had  been  kept  so  long  without  his 
natural  food. 

Sir  Joshua  used  to  say,  that  "  he  will  never  make 
a  painter  who  looks  for  the  Sunday  with  pleasure  as 
an  idle  day.'' 

None  of  his  hours  were  ever  spent  in  idleness,  or 
lost  in  dissipation ;  and  on  those  evenings  which  he 
spent  at  home,  after  his  daily  occupation  was  past,  he 
employed  himself  in  looking  over,  and  studying  from, 
the  prints  of  the  old  masters,  of  which  he  had  pro- 
cured a  fine  collection. 

He  was,  however,  happy  in  the  friendly  society  of 
a  few  amiable  individuals,  with  whom  his  evenings 
were  sometime*  spent ;  and  amongst  those  the  Cotter- 
ells  were  still  numbered,  at  whose  house  Johnson  and 
be  iiad  been  frequent  visitors. 

In  a  letter  from  Johnson  to  Barrett!,  written  in 
Decembei',  after  the  return  of  the  two  friends  to  the 
metropolis,  the  former  says,  "  Reynolds  still  con- 
tinues to  increase  in  reputation  and  riches.  Miss 
Cottcrell  is  stiU  with  Mrs.  Porter.  Miss  Charlotte  is 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  61 

maiTJed  to  Dean  Lewis,  and  lias  three  children." 
And  in  a  subsequent  letter,  he  adds,  "  Miss  Cotterell 
still  contiuues  to  cling  to  Mrs.  Porter.  Mr.  Reynolds 
gels  6000  a-year." 

Mr.  Reynold's  practice  was  now,  indeed,  so  great, 
that  he  found  it  necessary  to  have  pupils  to  assist  in 
the  minor  parts  of  his  profession,  of  which  number  the 
first  after  Marchi  was  Mr.  Beech  a  native  of  Dorset- 
shire, and  soon  after  Mr.  Berridge  was  placed  under 
his  tuition;  this  gentleman  was  born  in  Lincolnshire: 
and  his  fourth  pupil  was  Mr.  Hugh  Barron,  whose 
early  promise  and  final  failure  may  serve  as  a  warn- 
ing to  others.  This  person  was  a  native  of  the  me- 
tropolis, and  born  somewhere  near  Soho,  in  which 
vicinity  his  father  had  an  official  situation  in  the 
Westminster  Dispensary,  as  apothecary  to  that  es- 
tablishment. He  was  placed  with  Mr.  Reynolds, 
with  whom  he  continued  several  years  ;  and,  on 
leaving  him,  attempted  his  profession  as  a  portrait 
painter  in  the  capital :  but  the  desire  of  improving 
himself  in  the  art  induced  him  to  visit  Italy  in  177^? 
to  which  country,  like  Sir  Joshua,  he  took  the  mari- 
time route,  and  like  him  called  at  Lisbon  on  his  way. 

He  made  some  stay  there,  practising  his  art,  being 
much  patronized  by  the  English  factory  both  there 
and  at  Oporto,  and  then  proceeded  on  his  voyage :  he 
seems  to  have  been  long  a  sojourner  at  the  seat  of  the 
arts,  principally  at  Rome  and  at  Genoa,  returning  to 
England  not  until  1778.  His  first  residence  in  Lon- 
don was  in  his  old  master's  immediate  neighbourhood, 
but  he  did  not  remain  there  long;  and  is  since  dead, 
(in  1791,)  at  the  age  of  middle  life.  This  person  was 
in  some  degree  an  instance  of  misapplied  talents ;  for 
though  as  Mr.  Edwards  records,  he  was  the  best 
amateur  performer  of  his  day  on  the  violin,  yet  he 
was  never  much  esteemed  as  a  painter,  notwithstand- 
ing the  early  promise  which  he  gave  of  graphic  ex- 
cellence whilst  a  youth,  at  a  drawing-school,  under 
the  tuition  of  Fournier,  som^  time  about  the  year 
176*. 


63  MEMOIRS  OF 

His  younger  brotlier,  William,  about  the  year  1775^ 
produced  a  view  ot"  Wanstead  House,  which  was  en- 
graved by  Picot,  and  dedicated  to  Sir  Joshua;  fur- 
ther particulars  of  hiin  will  be  found  in  Edwards. 

At  his  hours  of  leisure  Mr.  Reynolds  considered  it 
as  necessary  to  his  mental  improvement,  as  well  as  to 
bis  professional  interest,  to  mix  in  learned  and  con- 
vivial society ;  and  about  this  time,  in  order  not  only 
to  enjoy  it  with  freedom,  but  also  more  particularly 
with  the  kind  intention  of  gratifying  his  venerable 
friend,  he  became  the  proposer,  and  with  the  assist- 
ance of  Johnson  was  the  founder,  of  that  clul),  still  in 
existence,  and  for  many  years  tlenominated  the  '^  Lit- 
erary Cliib.^*  This,  liowever,  was  a  title  which  they 
did  not  arrogate  to  themselves ;  a  tiling,  indeed,  in 
which  Sir  Joshua  would  have  been  the  last  person  to 
join :  but  as  I  was  not  then  in  the  metropolis  myself, 
and  feel  so  anxious  for  the  literary  fame  of  him  whose 
friendship  did  me  so  much  honour,  as  to  wish  to  guard 
him  against  the  imputation  of  affecting  that  which  he 
really  did  possess,  though  some  envious  persons  have 
denied  it,  (I  allude  to  his  own  literary  merit,)  I  con- 
sider myself  as  warranted  in  going  to  some  length  on 
the  subject,  from  the  authority  of  contemporary  biog- 
raphers. 

Whilst  writing  the  life  too  of  the  founder  of  the 
club,  it  will  not  be  considered  as  out  of  place  briily  to 
notice  the  original  design  which,  as  first  declared  at 
its  institution,  in  February,  1764,  was  to  confine  the 
club  to  twelve  members,  consisting  of  Sir  Joshua, 
then  only  Mr.  Reynolds,  Dr.  Johnson,  Drs.  Gold- 
smith, Nugent,  and  Percy  afterwards  Bishop  of  Dro- 
more.  Sir  Robert  Chambers  and  Sir  John  Hawkins, 
with  Messrs.  Burke,  Langton,  Chamier,  Dyer,  and 
tiie  Honourable  Topham  Beauclerk. 

These  were  thus  so  judiciously  selected,  as  Mr. 
Malone  observes,  and  were  men  of  such  talents  and 
so  well  known  to  each  other,  that  any  two  of  them,  if 
they  should  not  happen  to  be  joined  by  any  more, 
might  be  good  company  for  each  other.  Such  was  the 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  63 

beginning  of  a  society  which  has  now  existed  for  half 
a  century^  boasting  of  having  had  enrolled,  on  its  list 
of  memhei's,  many  of  tlie  most  celebrated  characters 
of  the  last  century. 

Sir  John  Hawkins,  though  he  does  not  expressly 
mention  Sir  Joshua  as  the  founder,  has,  notwithstand- 
ing, entered  more  into  detail  on  this  subject  than  either 
Mr.  Boswell  or  Mr.  Malone ;  he  observes,  speaking 
of  Dr.  Johnson  in  the  preceding  year,  (1763,)  that  he 
had  now  considerably  extended  the  circle  of  his  ac- 
quaintance, and  had  added  to  the  number  of  liis 
friends  sundry  persons  of  distinguisiied  eminence  ; 
amongst  whom  he  enumerates  Sir  Joshua  and  some 
others  of  the  original  members,  and  he  then  enters 
more  minutely  into  those  principles  wiiich  must  have 
weighed  much  with  the  founder  when  he  first  thought 
of  the  plan :  for  he  adds,  that  from  Johnson's  delight 
in  convivial  meetings,  his  love  of  conversation,  and  his 
sensible  feeling  of  the  attractions  of  a  tavern,  it  was 
but  natural  that  he  siiould  wish  for  frequent  opportu- 
nities of  indulging  them  in  a  way  tliat  would  free  him 
from  domestic  restraint,  from  the  observance  of  hours, 
and  from  a  conformity  to  family  regulations.  ''  A 
tavern  was  the  place  for  these  enjoyments,  and  a 
weekly  club  was  instituted  for  his  gratification,  and 
the  mutual  entertainment  and  delight  of  its  several 
members.  The  first  movers  in  tliis  association  were 
Johnson  and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds;  the  place  of  meet- 
ing was  the  Turk's  Head  in  Grerard-street;  the  day, 
Monday  in  every  week;  and  the  hour  of  assembling, 
seven  in  the  evening.  Our  evening  toast,"'  continues 
Sir  John,  "  was  esio  ppvpetiia.  A  lady,  distinguished 
by  her  beauty  and  taste  for  literature,  (Mrs.  Mon- 
tague,) invited  us  two  successive  years  to  a  dinner  ai, 
her  house ;  curiosity  was  her  motive,  and  possibly  a 
desire  of  intermingling  with  our  conversation  the 
charm  of  her  own.  She  affected  to  consider  us  as  a 
set  of  literary  men,  and  perhaps  gave  the  first  occasion 
for  distinguishing  the  society  by  the  name  of  the  Lit- 


(5J,  MEMOIRS  OF 

erarif  Club,  a  distinctiou  which  it  never  assumed  to 
itself." 

Having  thus  slightly  noticed  what  may  be  consider- 
ed as  an  event  riot  wholly  unimportant  in  the  life  of 
Sir  Joshua,  I  may  further  add  of  this  year,  as  con- 
nected with  the  art,  that  in  the  mouth  of  April  was 
first  opened  the  exhibition  of  Painting,  Sculpture,  and 
Architecture,  at  the  Great  Room  in  Spring  Gardens. 
This  took  place  from  a  union  of  all  the  artists  of 
the  metropolis  in  1760,  and  was  followed  by  a  royal 
charter  in  the  succeeding  year. 

It  may  not  be  foreign  to  my  purpose  here,  for  the 
information  of  general  readers,  to  take  some  notice  of 
the  royal  charter  of  incorporation  of  this  establishment, 
particularly  as  it  has  been  entirely  passed  over  by 
former  biographers. 

This  charter  was  then  given  to  the  "  Society  of 
Artists  of  Great  Britain,"  to  consist  of  a  president, 
vice  president,  directors,  and  fellows,  to  be  for  ever 
after  a  body  corporate,  with  perpetual  succession,  and 
with  power  to  enjoy  lands  in  perpetuity,  either  by 
purchase  or  devise,  to  the  yearly  value  of  1000/.  not- 
withstanding the  statute  of  mortmain.  Their  arms,  or 
corporation  seal,  consisting  of  azure,  a  brush,  a 
cbissel,  and  a  pair  of  compasses,  composed  fretty,  or; 
over  these,  in  chief,  a  regal  crown  proper.  This  coat 
had  two  supporters :  on  the  dexter  side,  Britannia ;  on 
the  sinister,  Concord.  The  crest  was  on  a  wreath, 
an  oak  branch,  and  a  palm  branch  in  sal  tire,  and  in 
the  centre  of  these,  a  chaplet  of  laurel.  This  common 
seal  too,  a  thing  very  unusual  in  heraldic  grants,  they 
had  liberty  to  break,  alter,  or  change  the  same,  from 
time  to  time,  as  they  thought  fit. 

It  was  further  stipulated,  that  all  the  officers,  to- 
gether with  the  directors,  should  be  either  painters^ 
sculptors,  architects,  or  engravers,  by  profession. 

The  charter  further  authorized  them  to  hold  meet- 
ings for  the  better  improvement  of  those  arts,  in  Lon- 
don, or  within  ten  miles  thereof,  as  often  as  it  might 
be  necessary. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  6& 

Mr.  Lambert  was  the  first  president,  and  Mr.  Haj'- 
man  his  vice ;  Messrs  Dalton  and  Newton  were  the 
first  treasurer  and  secretary ;  the  other  members  of  the 
direction  were  Sir  William  Chambers,  Messrs,  Mac 
Ardell,  Barret,  Collins,  Cotes,  Grrignion,  (rwyn, 
Hone,  Meyer,  Moser,  Payne,  Penny,  Rooker,  Sand- 
by,  Seaton,  Tyler,  Wall,  Wilson,  Wilton,  and  Yeo. 

As  the  events  which  gave  rise  to  this  establishment 
are  intimately  connected  with  the  present  Royal 
Academy  in  its  progress  and  foundation,  I  cannot 
give  a  better  view  of  them,  in  part,  than  is  aifarded  by 
the  slight  sketch  drawn  up  in  the  year  I766,  by  Mr. 
John  &wyn,  an  ingenious  arcliitectural  writer,  in  his 
^^  London  and  Westminster  Improved." 

The  passage  has,  indeed,  been  quoted  before,  but 
will  not  be  improper  in  this  place.  He  observes,  that, 
^*  Sir  Peter  Lely  and  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  kept  up 
the  national  passion  with  great  success;  and  some 
public  works,  which  required  decorations,  gave  op- 
portunity to  Sir  James  Thornhill  and  others,  to  shew, 
that  historical  painting,  if  properly  encouraged,  was  a 
field  in  which  the  British  nation  might  engage  with 
their  competitors,  not  without  advantage ;  but  notwith- 
standing this  advancement  of  the  art  of  painting,  and 
the  number  of  ingenious  professors  who  continually  ad- 
vanced in  every  branch,  neither  painting,  nor  pro- 
fessors of  painting,  were  known,  distinguished,  or  en- 
couraged. The  few,  indeed,  who  had  taste  and  dis- 
cernment, sought  for  these  ingenious  men,  and  pur- 
chased their  works ;  but  the  public  knew  them  not, 
nor  did  they  know  each  other :  they  had  no  society  or 
intercourse  with  their  fellow  artists,  consequently  had 
very  little  to  say  in  each  other's  recommendation,  in 
the  different  branches  of  painting;  and  he  who  had 
the  greatest  acquaintance,  wiiatevcr  were  his  abilities, 
was  sure  to  get  the  most  money.  However,  the  natural 
good  sense  and  ingenuity  of  the  British  nation  con- 
tinued still  to  furnish  very  able  masters ;  and  these,  at 
length,  collected  their  scattered  and  dispersed  breth- 
ren, and  formed  a  little  society,  who  wisely  consider- 


HO  MEMOIRS  OF 

ing  their  mutual  interest,  !)y  a  voluntary  subscription 
among  themselves,  established  an  academy  in  St. 
Marti  n's-lane. 

The  establishment  of  the  Foundling  Hospital, 
wliich  was  a  national  concern,  and  attracted  the  notice 
of  the  public  in  a  very  particular  manner,  gave  an 
opportunity,  when  finislied,  for  displaying  a  scene 
entirely  new  to  this  nation.  Tlie  Hospital  was  just  in 
its  infancy,  and  elegant  decorations,  and  every  possi- 
ble means  that  could  allure  or  draw  the  attention  of  the 
public  towards  its  su{)port  and  maintenance,  were 
found  necessary  ;  l)ut  the  expense  of  such  ornaments 
could  not  be  afforded  by  a  ciiarity  whose  utmost 
abilities  were  demanded  for  the  succour  and  support 
of  deserted  perishing  infants.  In  order  to  contribute 
to  the  support  of  this  useful  establishment,  and  to  shew 
at  once  that  ingenuity  and  compassion  for  the  dis- 
tresses of  human  nature  are  usually  found  to  reside  in  ■ 
the  same  person,  the  most  considerable  artists  in  Great 
Britain  nobly  and  generously  united  in  bestowing  a 
great  number  of  excellent  performances,  in  painting 
and  sculpture,  which  embellished  the  Hospital,  en- 
tertained the  public,  and,  at  the  same  time  convinced 
the  world  that  painting  was  arrived  to  a  degree  of 
perfection  in  this  kingdom,  of  which,  until  this  era, 
they  had  no  conception.  The  Governors  of  the  Hos- 
pital, convinced  of  the  use  and  benefit  which  accrued 
to  tiie  charity  from  these  truly  valuable  donations,  and 
desirous  of  improving  a  connection  so  very  advantage- 
ous to  them,  encouraged  the  several  con tril)u tors,  and 
also  the  whole  body  of  those  who  professed  the  polite 
arts,  to  have  an  annual  meeting  at  the  Hospital,  on 
the  fifth  of  November  :  these  meetings  drew  together 
the  most  ingenious  artists  from  every  quarter,  and  at 
one  of  them  it  was  proposed  to  the  whole  body,  to 
have  an  annual  exhibition  of  such  performances  as 
should  be  judged  worthy  the  notice  of  the  public. 

A  proposal  so  very  advantageous  to  merit  of  every 
kind,  could  not  fail  of  being  received  with  applause, 
and  was  unanimously  agreed  to.   In  consequence  of 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  67 

tliis  resolution,  application  was  made  to  the  Society 
of  Arts,  Manufactures,  and  Commerce,  who,  taking  it 
into  consideration,  rightly  judged,  that  an  exliihition 
of  this  nature  could  not  he  carried  into  execution  with 
so  much  propriety  as  under  their  patronage ;  they 
complied,  therefore,  willingly,  witli  this  request,  aud, 
in  the  year  I76O,  the  first  exhibition  of  the  artists  of 
Great  Britain  was  made,  and  another  the  year  follow- 
ing; but  as  every  member  of  the  Society  was  at  liberty 
to  distribute  what  number  of  tickets  for  admittance  he 
thought  fit,  that  which  was  intended  only  as  a  polite 
entertainment  and  rational  amusement  for  the  public, 
became  a  scene  of  tumult  and  disorder;  and  to  such  a 
height  was  tlie  rage  of  visiting  the  exhibition  carried, 
that,  when  the  members  themselves  liad  satisfied  their 
own  curiosity,  the  room  was  crowded,  during  the 
hours  allotted  foi-  the  exhibition,  with  menial  servants 
and  their  acquaintance.  This  prostitution  of  the  polite 
arts,  undoubtedly  became  extremely  disagreeable  to 
the  professors  themselves,  who  heard,  alike,  with 
indignation,  their  works  censured  or  approved  by 
kitchen-maids  aud  stable-boys;  but  the  cause  of  the 
final  separation,  (for  this  abuse  might  have  been 
remedied,)  of  the  artists  of  Great  Britain  from  the 
Society,  was  tliis  :  it  had  been,  and  still  is,  usual  for 
the  Society  to  give  premiums  for  historical  and  land- 
scape painting;  these  rewards  were  usually  adjudged 
among  the  competitors  some  little  time  before  tlie  ex- 
hibition began,  and  as  those  who  gained  t!ie  premiums 
were  obliged  to  leave  their  pictures  a  limited  time  with 
the  Society,  they  were,  of  course,  sure  to  be  iu  the 
exhibition.  The  great  inconvenience  of  this  method  of 
proceeding  was  soon  discovered  by  several  of  the  most 
eminent  painters,  whose  reputations  were  already  so 
eminently  established  as  to  prevent  their  becoming 
candidates  for  a  trifling  premium;  these,  therefore,  as 
their  characters  were  so  nearly  concerned,  very  justly 
objected  to  the  continuation  of  this  custom,  for  the  fol- 
lowing obvious  reason  :  it  was  generally  known  that 
the  Society  had  determined  premiums  for  several  pic- 


3 


68  MEMOIRS  OF 

tares,  and  it  'ivas  natural  (Mioiigli  for  persons  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  matter  to  inquire,  upon  entering 
the  room,  which  of  the  pieces,  among  that  profusion  of 
art,  were  those  that  had  ohtained  tlie  premium?  and, 
being  satisfied  in  this  particular,  they  very  innocently 
concluded,  for  want  of  better  judgment,  that  these  had 
obtained  the  prize  from  all  the  rest,  and,  consequently, 
were  tlie  best  pictures.  Had  it  been  possible  to  have 
confined  this  injurious  decision  to  the  vulgar  specta- 
tors, it  would  have  been  a  tiling  of  no  consequence ; 
but,  unfortunately  for  the  arts,  many  in  a  much  higher 
sphere  of  life  were  liable  to  be  led  away  by  the  same 
opinion ;  and  tlierefore,  as  the  society  would  not  give 
up  the  point,  a,  separation  ensued,  and  every  succeed- 
ing exhibition  has  been  made  at  the  room  in  Spring 
Gardens.  The  prodigious  encouragement  given  to  it, 
and  the  applause  bestowed  on  the  several  perform- 
ances, by  persons  of  the  greatest  taste  and  distinction, 
evidently  shew  what  a  prodigious  progress  has  been 
made  in  the  arts,  as  well  as  what  great  expectations 
may  be  formed  of  what  will  probably  be  done  by  con- 
curring incitements  of  applause  and  emulation,  and 
the  effects  of  society  and  concord.  The  success  of  the 
exhibition,  and  the  harmony  which  subsisted  among 
the  exhibitors,  naturally  led  them  to  the  thoughts  of 
soliciting  an  establishment,  and  forming  themselves 
into  a  body :  in  consequence  of  which  solicitation,  his 
Majesty  was  most  graciously  pleased  to  grant  them 
his  Royal  Charter,  incorporating  tliem  by  the  name  of 
the  Society  of  Artists  of  Great  Britain ;  which  charter 
bears  date  the  2Gth  day  of  January,  1765,  and  is  the 
one  of  which  I  have  given  the  preceding  sketch. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  a  violent  and  very  dan- 
gerous illness  had  attacked  Mr.  Reynolds,  which  had 
nearly  deprived  his  associates  of  one  of  the  best  of 
frienils,  and  the  world  of  one  of  its  brightest  orna- 
ments. 

His  illness,  however,  was  but  of  short  duration,  and 
his  recovery  was  cheered  by  the  following  affectionate 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  69 

letter  from  Dr.  Johnson^  then  on  a   visit  in  North- 
amptonshire : 

<^  TO  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS,  ESQ.  IN  LEICESTER-FIE1.DS, 
LONDON. 

^^  DEAR  SIR, 

"  I  (lid  not  hear  of  your  sickness,  till  I  heard, 
likewise  of  your  recovery,  and  therefore  escaped  that 
part  of  your  pain  which  every  man  must  feel  to  whom 
you  arc  known  as  you  are  known  to  me.  Having  had 
no  particular  account  of  your  disorder,  1  know  not  in 
what  state  it  has  left  you.  If  the  amusement  of  my 
company  can  exhilarate  the  languor  of  a  slow  recovery, 
I  will  not  delay  a  day  to  come  to  you ;  for  I  know 
not  how  I  can  so  effectually  promote  my  own  pleasure, 
as  by  pleasing  you,  or  my  own  interest  as  by  pre- 
serving you ;  in  whom,  if  I  should  lose  you,  I  should 
lose  almost  the  only  man  whom  I  call  a  friend.  Pray 
let  me  hear  of  you  from  yourself,  or  from  dear  Miss 
Reynolds.  Make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Mudge. 

^^  I  am,  dear  Sir, 

"  Your  most  affectionate, 
"  Most  humble  servant, 

"  Sam.  Johnson. 

••  At  the  Rev.  Mr.  Percy's,  at  Easton-Maudit, 
Northamptonshire,  (by  Castle  Ashby)  August  19, 
1761." 

In  1765  Mr.  Reynolds  exhibited  a  whole  lengtli 
portrait  of  Lady  Sarah  Bunbury,  in  which  she  is  rep- 
resented as  sacrificing  to  the  Graces.  Previous  to  this 
he  had  painted  an  excellent  whole  length  portrait  of 
Lady  Elizabeth  Keppel,  in  the  dress  she  wore  as 
bridemaid  to  the  Queen ;  and  in  the  same  exhibition 
he  had  another  portrait  of  Lady  Waldegrave  ;  of 
which  Mr.  Barry,  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Sleigh,  says^ 


70  MEMOIRS  OF 

'^  We  have  had  two  exhibitions  since  I  wrote  to  you; 
the  pictures  that  struck  nie  most  were  Larly  Sarah 
Bunbury  saciiticiiis;  to  the  Graces,  and  Lady  Walde- 
grave ;  they  arc  some  of  Mr.  Reynolds's  best  works, 
which  is  the  i^reatcst  character  they  can  have." 

It  was  in  this  year  that  Johnson's  edition  of  Shaks- 
peare  made  its  appearance  ;  and  even  for  this,  the 
world  is  much  obliged  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  Mr. 
Boswell  tells  us,  that  in  1/56  the  Doctor  had  resumed 
his  scheme  of  giving  that  work  with  notes,  and  had 
even  published  proposals,  in  which  he  promised  that 
it  should  be  perfected  by  Christmas,  1/57.  but  that  his 
habitual  indolence  had  prevented  him  from  pursuing 
the  system  of  research  necessary  for  such  an  under- 
taking. Sir  John  Hawkins  also  notices  particularly 
that  a  Reverend  Divine  (Churchill)  had  exhibited 
him  to  ridicule  in  a  satirical  poem,  and  revived  the 
remembrance  of  that  engagement  to  the  public,  "Avhich 
by  this  and  other  instances  of  the  laxity  of  his  mind, 
he  seemed  not  inclined  to  fulfil." 

This  was  about  I76O;  but  as  Hawkins  adds,  al- 
though Johnson  was  insensible  to  the  abuse,  yet  his 
friends  took  the  alarm,  and  by  all  the  arts  of  per- 
suasion and  reasoning,  endeavoured  to  convince  him 
that  his  credit  was  at  stake,  in  having  yet  made  no 
progress  in  a  work,  for  Avhich  lie  had  already  taken 
subscriptions. 

The  true  reason  to  be  given  for  the  delay  of  this 
work  is,  that  Johnson  had  undertaken  it  at  a  period 
when  he  was  obliged  to  be  a  literary  drudge  for  his 
livelihood,  and  merely  on  account  of  the  profits  it 
w  ould  afford  him  ;  hut  it  never  was  an  object  of  his 
desire.  In  the  mean  time  he  became  possessed  of  the 
pension  of  three  hundred  per  annum  from  the  bounty 
of  his  present  majesty,  and  therefore,  that  task,  which 
before  was  undertaken  from  necessity  only,  now  be- 
came loathsome  to  him,  and  he  could  not  summon  up 
sufficient  resolution  to  go  on  with  the  work,  although 
he  had  engaged  himself  to  the  public  by  having  re- 
ceived subscriptions  for  it.   He  indeed  confessed  that 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  7I 

^lie  was  culpable,  and  made  promises,  from  time  to 
time,  that  he  would  commence  the  necessary  course  of 
reading;  but  even  now  his  best  friends  trembled  for 
his  fulfilment  of  these  promises,  nor  was  it  until  8ir 
Joshua  and  some  others  of  his  friends  contrived  to  en- 
tangle him  in  a  wager  for  its  performance  at  a  given 
period,  that  he  could  be  prevailed  to  sit  down  to  it  in 
earnest.  These  friendly  exertions,  however,  had  the 
best  effect,  and  at  length,  in  1765,  the  work  was  pro- 
duced. 

I  make  no  doubt  that  Sir  Joshua,  in  order  to  en- 
courage Johnson  in  the  business,  at  the  same  time  of- 
fered to  furnish  him  with  the  few  notes  on  the  text  of 
Shakspeare,  which  he  faithfully  performed  ;  and  as 
these  notes  serve  to  show  the  clearness  of  perception 
and  mode  of  thinking  in  Reynolds,  it  is  surely  re- 
quisite to  insert  them  in  this  place. 

In  Macbeth,  act  the  first,  scene  the  sixth,  in  the 
dialogue  between  the  King  and  Banquo,  is  this 
passage — 

King.  "  This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat;  the  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gentle  senses. 

Ban.    This  Guest  of  sumn»er, 

The  temple-haunting  Martlet,  does  approve, 
By  his  lov'd  mansion'ry,  that  the  Heav'n's  breath 
Smells  wooingly.    Here  is  nojetty  tVieze, 
Buttrice,  nor  coigne  of  vantage,  but  this  bird 
Hath  made  his  pendant  bed  and  procreaot  cradle: 
Where  they  most  breed  and  haunt,  I  have  ob&erv'd 
The  air  is  delicate." 

On  which  Sir  Joshua  observes,  "  this  short  dia- 
logue between  Duncan  and  Banquo,  whilst  they  are 
approaching  the  gates  of  Macbeth's  castle,  has  always 
appeared  to  me  a  striking  instance  of  what  in  painting 
is  termed  repose.  This  conversation  very  naturally 
turns  upon  the  beauty  of  its  situation,  and  the  pleasant- 
ness of  the  air;  and  Banquo,  observing  the  martlets* 
nests  in  every  recess  of  the  cornice,  remarks,  that 
where  those  birds  most  breed  and  haunt,  the  air  is 


73  MEMOIRS  OF 

delicate.  The  subject  of  quiet  and  easy  conversation^^ 
gives  that  repose  so  necessary  to  the  mind  after  the 
tumultuous  bustle  of  the  preceding  scenes,  and  per- 
fectly contrasts  the  scene  of  horror  that  immediately 
succeeds.  It  seems  as  if  Shakspeare  asked  himself, 
what  is  a  prince  likely  to  say  to  his  attendants  on  sucli 
an  occasion?  Whereas,  the  modern  writers  seem,  on 
the  contrary,  to  l)e  always  searching  for  new  tlioughts, 
such  as  would  never  occur  to  men  in  the  situation 
which  is  represented.— -This  also  is  frequently  the 
practice  of  Homer,  who,  from  the  midst  of  battles  and 
horrors,  relieves  and  refreshes  the  mind  of  the  reader, 
by  introducing  some  quiet  rural  image,  or  picture  of 
familiar  domestic  life." 

On  this  note,  the  following  observation  has  been 
made  in  a  late  edition  by  Mr.  Malone,  which,  al- 
though expressing  a  difi'erence  of  opinion,  is  yet  high- 
ly complimentary  to  Sir  Joshua. — "  It  is  not  without 
reluctance  that  I  express  my  dissent  from  the  friend 
whose  name  is  subscribed  to  the  preceding  note; 
whose  observations  on  all  subjects  of  criticism  and 
taste  are  so  ingenious  and  just,  that  posterity  may  be 
at  a  loss  to  determine,  whether  his  consummate  skill 
and  execution  in  his  own  art,  or  his  judgment  in  that 
and  other  kindred  arts,  were  superior." 

In  Othello,  act  first,  scene  third,  the  Duke  says, 

"  Let  me  speak  like  yourself;  and  lay  a  sentence, 
Which,  as  a  grise  or  step,  may  help  these  lovers 
Into  your  favour." 

The  Duke  then  proceeds  to  repeat  a  variety  of 
proverbs  in  rhyming  distichs;  on  which  Johnson  says 
in  a  note,  "  The  duke  seems  to  mean,  when  he  says 
he  will  speak  like  Brabantio,  that  he  will  speak 
sententiously." 

But  Sir  Joshua  was  of  opinion,  that  Shakspeare 
here  meant  something  further;  for  Brabantio  was 
father  of  Desdemona,  and  the  Duke  was  endeavour, 
iug  to  reconcile  him  to  her  maniage  with  the  Moor : 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  73 

he  therefore  adds,  "  i.  e.  let  me  speak  as  yourself 
would  speak,  were  you  not  too  much  lieated  with 
passion." 

Perhaps  the  Poet  might  have  also  wished  to  say, 
or  to  imply,  "  Hear  me  now  say,  what  you  ought  to 
say;  let  me  repeat  those  wise  proverbs  of  which  you 
are  so  fond,  and  whose  wisdom  ought  now  to  regulate 
your  feelings.'^ 

In  the  same  scene  Brabautio  says, 

"  But  words  are  words;  I  never  yet  did  hear 

That  the  bruis'd  heart  was  pierced  througii  the  ear." 

On  this  passage  TVarburton  had  observed,  tliat 
"  the  Duke  had  by  sage  sentences  been  exhorting 
Brabantio  to  patience,  and  to  forget  the  grief  of  his 
daughter's  stolen  marriage  :  to  which  Brabantio  is 
made  very  pertinently  to  reply,  to  this  effect,  '  My 
Lord,  1  apprehend  very  well  the  wisdom  of  your 
advice:  but  though  you  would  comfort  me,  words  are 
bxit  words ;  and  the  heart,  already  bruised,  was  never 
pierced,  or  wounded,  through  the  ear.'  It  is  obvious 
tiiat  the  text  must  be  restored  thus  : 

That  the  bruised  heart  was  pierced  through  the  ear. 

That  is,  that  the  wounds  of  sorrow  were  never  cured, 
or  a  man  made  heart-whole,  merely  by  the  words  of 
consolation.'^ 

Next  comes  Mr.  Stevens,  who  treats  the  bruised 
heart,  first  surgically,  and  then  applies  a  black  letter 
plaister  to  the  wound.  ^*  Pierced  may  be  right.  The 
consequence  of  a  bruise  is  sometimes  matter  collected, 
and  this  can  no  way  be  cured  without  piercing  01 
letting  it  out.   Thus  in  Hamlet  : 

"  It  will  but  skin  and  fihn  the  ulcerous  place, 
While  rank  corruption,  mining  all  within, 
Infects  unseen." 


74  MExMOIRS  OF 

Again,  » 

"  This  is  th'  imposthume  of  much  wealth  and  peace, 
Tiiat  inward  breaks,  and  shows  no  cause  without, 
"NVliy  tlie  man  dies." 

What  reference  these  passages  can  possibly  have  to 
the  point  in  question,  I  will  not  pretend  to  say  ;  and 
indeed  Mr.  Stevens  himself  seems  to  have  doubted 
there  being  a  cure  for  this  bruised  heart;  he  therefore 
adds — '*  Our  autlior  might  have  had  in  bis  memory 
the  following  quaint  title  of  an  old  book  ;  i.  e.  •  A 
.Lytell  Treatise  called  the  Dysputacyon,  or  the  Com- 
playnte  of  tlie  Harte  through  perced  with  the  lokynge 
of  the  eye.  Imprinted  at  London,  in  Flete-strete,  at 
y*  syngne  of  the  Sonne,  by  AYynkin  de  Worde.' 

"  Again,  in  a  ^  Newe  and  a  Mery  Interlude,  con- 
cerning Pleasure  and  Payne  in  love,  made  by  Jhoa 
Heywood  :  fol.  Rastel.  1631. 

"  Thorough  mjne  erys  dyrectly  to  myne  harte 
Percyth  his  wordys  evyn  lyke  as  many  sperye." 

After  all  this  display  of  ingenuity  and  research.  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  with  all  the  calm  dignity  of  a 
philosophical  annotator,  expresses  himself  thus: 

"  Shakspeare  was  continually  changing  his  first 
expression  for  another,  either  stronger  or  more  uncom- 
mon ;  so  that  very  often  the  reader  who  has  not  the 
same  continuity,  or  succession  of  ideas,  is  at  a  loss  for 
his  meaning :  many  of  Shakspeare's  uncouth-strained 
epithets  may  be  explained  by  going  back  to  the 
obvious  and  simple  expression,  which  is  most  likely  to 
occur  to  the  mind  in  that  state.  I  can  imagine  the  first 
mode  of  expression  that  occured  to  the  poet  was  this : 

"  The  troubled  heart  was  never  cured  by  words." 
To  give  it  poetical  force  he  altered  the  phrase : 

"  The  wounded  heart  was  never  reached  through  the  ear." 


SIR  JOSHUA  RlfcYNOLDS.  ^5 

Wounded  heart  he  change'l  to  hroJcen,  and  that  to 
bruised,  as  a  more  common  expression.  Jieached  he 
altered  to  touched,  and  the  transition  is  then  easy  to 
pierced:  i.  e.  ihoroa^hXy  touched :  when  the  sentiment 
is  brought  to  this  state,  the  commentator,  without  this 
unravelling  clue,  expounds /?/erc7*H°'  heart  in  its  com- 
mon acceptation  icoundiiig  the  heart,  which  making  in 
this  place  nonsense,  is  corrected  to  pierced  the  heart, 
which  is  very  stiff,  and  as  Polonius  says,  is  a  vile 
phrase.^'  This  note  seems  to  have  been  the  founda- 
tion for  Malone's  subsequent,  and  more  copious, 
illustration  of  the  passage. 

On  a  subsequent  passage  in  the  same  play,  in  the 
first  scene  of  the  fourth  act,  where  Othello,  in  his 
jealousy,  exclaims,  ^'Nature  would  not  invest  herself 
in  such  shadowing  passion  without  some  instruction. 
It  is  no  words  that  shake  me  thus — pish — noses, 
ears,  and  lips — is't  possible  ! — confess  !  handker- 
chief!— 0  devil!" — [JPa/Zs  in  a  trance^  Warburtou 
says,  that,  "  The  starts  and  broken  reflections  in  this 
speech  have  something  very  terrible,  and  show  the 
mind  of  the  speaker  to  be  in  inexpressible  agonies. 
But  the  words  we  are  upon,  when  set  right,  have  a 
sublime  in  them  that  can  never  be  enough  admired. 
The  ridiculous  blunder  of  writing  instruction  for 
induction,  (for  so  it  should  be  read,)  has,  indeed, 
sunk  it  into  arrant  nonsense.  Othello  is  just  going  to 
fall  into  a  swoon;  and,  as  is  common  for  people  in  that 
circumstance,  feels  an  unusual  mist  and  darkness,  ac- 
companied with  horror,  coming  upon  him.  This, 
with  vast  sublimity  of  thought,  is  compared  to  the 
reason  of  the  sun's  eclipse,  at  which  time  the  earth 
becomes  shadowed  by  the  induction  or  bringing  over 
of  the  moon  between  it  and  the  sun.  This  being  the 
allusion,  the  reasoning  stands  thus — ^  My  nature 
could  never  be  thus  overshadowed,  and  falling,  as  it 
were,  into  dissolution,  for  no  cause.  There  must  be 
an  induction  of  something;  there  must  be  a  real  cause. 
JNly  jealousy  cannot  be  merely  imaginary.  Ideas, 
Words  only,  could  not  shake  me  thus,  and  raise  all 

J, 


76  MEMOIRS  OF 

this  disorder.  My  jealousy,  therefore,  must  be  ground- 
ed on  matter  of  fact. — Sliakspeare  uses  the  same 
word  in  the  same  sense  in  King  Richard  tlie  Tiiird : 

"■  A  dire  in  J  action  I  am  witness  to." 

"  ^Marston  seems  to  have  read  it  thus  in  some  copy, 
and  to  allude  to  it  in  these  words  of  Fame : 

"  Plots  ha'  jou  laid  ?  inductions  dangerous." 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  in  his  note  upon  this  passage 
observes,  that,  "  However  ingenious  I)r.  Warburton's 
note  may  be,  it  is  certainly  too  forced  and  far-fetched. 
Othello  alludes  only  to  Cassio's  dream,  which  had 
been  invented  and  told  him  by  lago.  When  many 
confused  and  very  interesting  ideas  pour  in  upon  the 
mind  all  at  once,  and  with  such  rapidity  that  it  has  not 
time  to  shape  or  digest  them,  if  it  does  not  relieve 
itself  by  tears,  (which  we  know  it  often  does,  whether 
for  joy  or  grief,)  it  produces  stupefaction  and  fainting. 

*'  Othello,  in  broken  sentences,  and  single  words, 
all  of  which  have  a  reference  to  the  cause  of  his 
jealousy,  shews,  that  all  the  proofs  are  present  at 
once  to  his  mind,  which  so  overpowers  it,  that  he  falls 
into  a  trance,  the  natural  consequence.'' 

In  a  letter  written  by  Mr.  Burke  to  Barry,  then  at 
Rome,  in  the  year  1766,  I  find  some  observations  of 
Sir  Joshua's  recorded,  which  deserve  insertion  here. 

He  says,  "  Reynolds  was  dining  with  me  when  the 
pictures  arrived,  (meaning  those  by  Barry,  painted 
at  Rome,  and  sent  to  Mr.  Burke,)  and  I  will  tell  you 
fairly  what  he  said. 

*'  He  declared  the  drawing  to  be  perfectly  correct, 
the  expression  just  and  noble:  Alexander's  attention, 
and  the  physician's  unaifected  n^anner,  could  not,  he 
said,  be  better.  In  regard  to  the  colouring,  he  said  he 
did  not  wish  it  other  than  it  was.  That  colouring  was 
a  knack  acquired  by  habit  and  experiment ;  tliat  noth- 
ing, however,  could  be  more  dangerous  to  a  young 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  77 

painter  than  to  indulge  himself  in  that  glare  of  colour 
which  catches  the  eye,  and  imposes  on  the  imperfect 
judgment.  I  do  not  at  all  suppose  that  his  opinion  is, 
that  to  begin  with  a  wish  of  excelling  in  colour,  is  to 
begin  at  the  wrong  end  of  the  art. 

^'  As  our  conversation  naturally  dwelt  on  painting, 
I  found  that  Reynolds's  expectations  of  what  would 
be  your  great  object  of  attention  were  the  works  of 
Michael  Angelo,  whom  he  considers  as  the  Homer  of 
Painting :  I  could  find  that  his  own  study  had  been 
much  engrossed  by  that  master,  whom  he  still  admires 
the  most.  He  mentioned,  indeed,  his  having,  for  some 
months,  confined  himself  to  the  Capella  Sistina,  and 
begged  me  to  desire  you  to  let  us  know  the  eflect  it 
has  on  you  when  you  give  it  your  attention."  &c. 

In  this  year,  also,  he  painted  a  very  excellent 
three-quarter  portrait  of  Mrs.  Collier,  an  eminent 
beauty  of  that  time,  and  from  which  there  is  a  mez- 
zotinto  print  taken  by  J.  Watson.  The  face  is  seen 
in  profile,  and  has  a  pensive  air,  as  if  contemplating 
the  death  of  a  favourite  sparrow,  which  appears  laid 
on  the  table  before  her.  The  lines  under  the  print  are 
from  Catullus : 

Passer  raortuus  estmese  puellse; 
Passer  delitise  mese  puellse ; 
Quern  plus  ilia  oculis  suis  amabat. 

The  following  couplets  were  written  by  a  gentle- 
men of  Devonshire,  a  friend  of  Sir  Joshua's,  and  who 
knew  the  lady,  on  seeing  the  picture — 

The  torture  of  a  father's  breast 

Timanthes  to  conceal, 
Anguish  too  great  to  be  exprest, 

He  covered  with  a  veil.  * 

The  lightning  of  bright  Collier's  eyes 

Reynolds  despaired  to  show, 
That  vivid  fire  his  art  defies, 

So  bade  the  tear  to  flow. 


78  MEMOIRS  OF 

Doctor  Farmer,  of  Cambridsje,  bad  written  a  most 
excellent  and  convincing  pamphlet  to  prove  that 
Shakspeare  knew  little  or  nothing  of  the  ancients  bnt 
by  translations.  Keing  in  company  with  Dr.  Johnson, 
iie  received  from  him  the  foHo\vi!)g  compliment  npon 
the  work :  "  Dr.  Farmer,"  said  Johnson,  '•  yon  have 
done  that  which  never  was  done  before;  that  is,  you 
liavc  completely  finished  a  controversy  beyond  all 
further  doubt."  ^*  I  thank  you,"  answered  Dr.  Far- 
mer, "  for  your  flattering  opinion  of  my  work,  but 
still  there  are  some  critics  who  will  adhere  to  their 
old  opinions:  certain  persons  that  I  could  name." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Johnson,  "  that  may  bo  true:  for  the 
limbs  will  quiver  and  move  after  the  soul  is  gone," 

Dr.  Farmer  has  been  long  celebrated  as  a  man  par- 
ticularly well  informed  on  the  subject  of  old  English 
literature ;  and.  as  a  man  of  learning,  was,  therefore, 
always  an  acceptable  guest  with  Sir  Joshua,  He  was 
a  native  of  Leicester,  and  nearly  of  the  same  age  with 
his  friend ;  and  having  completed  his  education  at 
Cambridge,  he  entered  into  orders,  serving  a  curacy 
at  a  village  near  that  university  for  many  years, 
whilst  a  tutor  at  Emanuel  College  :  but  his  appoint- 
ment, in  1767?  as  a  preacher  at  Whitehall,  gave  him 
frequent  opportunities  of  residence  in  London,  where 
he  became  a  distinguished  book  collector. 

Dr.  Askew,  of  Queen's-square,  was  particularly 
attached  to  him,  and  being  himself  a  man  of  learning, 
gave  him  a  most  hospitable  reception  at  his  house, 
where  he  first  met  Sir  Joshua,  along  with  several 
others  of  the  distinguished  characters  of  the  day. 

With  these  two  he  mixed  much  in  evening  society; 
so  much  so,  indeed,  that,  when  oflered  a  bishopric  by 
Mr.  Pitt,  so  strong  was  his  wish  to  associate  without 
restraint,  "  and  to  enjoy  himself  without  responsibili- 
ty," that,  as  he  said  a  friend,  '•  one  that  enjoyed  the 
theatre  and  the  Queen's  Head  in  the  evening,  would 
have  made  but  an  indifferent  bishop."  He  was  there- 
fore a  member  of  several  clubs,  particularly  one  in 
Essex-street,  founded  by  Johnson:  the  unincreasible 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  yg 

club  at  the  Queen's  Head  in  Holbovn,  where  he  met 
Hayley,  Romney,  Topham,  Nevvbery,  and  others; 
and  the  Eumelian  club  held  at  the  Blenheim  Tavern, 
in  Boud-street,  of  which  Sir  Joshua  himself  was  a 
member,  together  with  Messrs.  Bos  well,  \V  iudhani, 
Knight,  North,  Burney,  Seward,  and  many  other 
highly  respectable  and  much  esteemed  public  char- 
acters. 

It  is  not  here  irrelevant  to  notice,  that  it  was  owing 
to  his  good  sense  and  good  taste  (whilst  canon  resi- 
dentiary of  St.  Paul's)  that  his  colleagues  were  in- 
duced to  admit  the  ornaments  of  sculpture  into  that 
cathedral.  Had  sucIj  a  man  been  concerned  in  the 
direction  of  that  edifice,  when  it  was  proposed  to  dec- 
orate it  with  the  eiforts  of  the  graphic  art,  how  easily 
would  a  new  and  permanent  source  of  encouragement 
have  been  established?  one  too,  most  certainly  no  less 
consonant  with  the  principles  of  tlic  Protestant  reli- 
gion than  the  productions  of  the  sculptor. 

In  1767  the  royal  patronage  was  extended  to  the. 
artists,  and  an  attempt  was  made  to  form  an  academy, 
partly  arising  from  the  dissentions  and  animosities 
which  followed  the  incorporation  in  1765 ;  for  those 
who  were  not  admitted  into  the  body  as  incorporated, 
were  so  stimulated  by  jealousy  as  to  resolve  to  submit 
no  longer  to  rules  and  regulations,  towards  which 
they  had  no  voice,  and  they  accordingly  attempted, 
for  a  year  or  two,  to  get  up  an  exhibition  of  their  own, 
but  were  not  very  successful  in  this  plan. 

In  the  regular  exhibition  of  this  year,  Mr.  Rey- 
nolds did  not  produce  a  single  eflbrt  of  his  pencil; 
yet  even  here  be  gave  a  proof  that  merit  will  always 
be  exposed  to  the  little  attacks  of  malice ;  for  Burke 
observes  in  a  letter  to  Barry,  dated  the  26th  of  April, 
1767,  *'  Jones,  who  used  to  be  poet  laureat  to  the  ex- 
hibition, is  prepared  to  be  a  severe  and  almost  general 
satirist  upon  the  exhibitors.  His  ill  behaviour  has 
driven  him  from  all  their  houses,  and  he  resolves  to 
take  revenge  in  this  manner.  He  has  endeavoured  to 
find  out  what  pictures  they  will  exhibit,  and   upon 


80  MEMOIRS  OF 

such  infovtnation  as  he  has  got,  has  hefore-liand  given 
a  poetic  description  of  those  pictures  which  he  has  not 
seen.  I  am  told  he  has  gone  so  far  as  to  abuse  Rey- 
nolds, at  guess,  as  an  exhibitor  of  several  pictures, 
though  he  docs  not  put  in  one.'' 

The  reason  of  his  apparent  inattention  to  the 
exhi!)ition  this  year,  is  afterwards  explained  by 
Burke,  saving,  ^*  The  exhibition  will  be  opened  to- 
morrow. Reynolds,  though  he  has,  I  think,  some 
better  portraits  than  he  had  ever  before  painted,  does 
not  think  mere  heads  sufficient,  and  having  no  piece  of 
fancy  finished,  sends  in  nothing  this  time." 

In  a  subsequent  letter  from  the  same  pen,  in  August, 
we  find,  "  As  to  Reynolds,  he  is  perfectly  well,  and 
still  keeps  that  superiority  over  the  rest,  which  he  al- 
ways had  from  his  genius,  sense,  and  morals.'' 

I  may  mention  in  this  place,  that  Mr.  Barry  was  a 
pupil  of  Mr.  Reynolds  some  time  before  the  year 
1767>  being  then  also  a  student  at  the  academy  in  St. 
Martin's-lane  :  his  early  initiation  into  the  art  having 
commenced  at  Shipley's  drawing- school,  and  been 
continued  in  the  gallery  of  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  so 
nobly  and  generously  established  for  the  furtherance 
of  taste,  and  the  developement  of  genius. 

It  is  recorded  of  him,  however,  that  his  early  ex- 
cellence, or  rather  the  praises  bestowed  on  it,  together 
with  the  premiums  awarded  by  the  Society  for  the 
encouragement  of  Arts,  for  his  drawings  from  antique 
models,  and  also  from  the  life,  had  the  unpleasant 
effect  of  relaxing  his  studies  and  exertions,  instead  of 
stimulating  him  to  attempt  approaching  nearer  to 
perfection. 

After  finishing  his  term  with  Sir  Joshua,  he  retired 
to  Wales,  where  he  was  invited  by  the  late  munificent 
Sir  Watkyn  Williams  Wynne,  who  was  his  steady 
patron,  and  assisted  him  in  his  proposed  plan  of 
studying  at  Rome,  whither  he  went  in  the  year  1770 ; 
returning  five  years  afterwards  to  England,  when  he 
attempted  to  settle  in  his  profession  in  the  metropolis, 
taking  a  house  in  Duke-street,  St.  James's.   Having 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  '         gl 

married  Miss  Keeiie,  daughter  of  the  architect  of  that 
name,  he  was  eifected  so  much  by  some  imlmppy 
family  occurrences,  as  to  retire  from  tlie  metropolis 
soon  after,  and  to  settle  at  his  former  Welsh  residence, 
where,  however,  he  remained  but  a  short  time:  the 
loss  of  his  wife,  who  died  in  parturition  of  iier  only 
child,  having  induced  him,  once  more,  to  leave  what 
may  properly  be  called  his  natal  country ;  for,  though 
born  in  London,  he  was  yet  of  Welsh  parentage,  his 
father  being  the  celebrated  blind  performer  on  the 
Welsh  harp. 

His  object  in  visiting  Rome  seems  to  have  been  to 
seek  employment  in  his  art,  in  addition  to  the  wish  of 
stifling  the  regret  for  the  loss  of  an  amiable  wife ;  he 
accordingly  commenced  the  copying  of  some  of  the 
finest  pieces  in  that  capital,  but  his  health  was  soon  so 
much  impaired,  that  he  was  induced  to  return  to 
England,  where  he  did  indeed  arrive,  but  only  to 
breathe  his  last  sigh  where  he  had  first  opened  his 
eyes  upon  the  world. 

In  Edwards's  Anecdotes  may  be  seen  many  par- 
ticulars respecting  his  performances ;  and  I  cannot 
help  regretting,  along  with  that  author,  that  his  draw- 
ing, in  chalk,  of  the  gallery  so  munificently  filled  with 
valuable  subjects  for  the  student,  and  so  liberally 
opened  by  a  late  Duke  of  Richmond,  is  lost,  as  such 
a  thing  would  now  be  highly  interesting  to  all  lovers 
of  the  art. 

Mr.  Reynolds  now  attained  the  summit  of  his 
reputation  as  an  artist,  and  maintained  his  dignified 
station  to  the  close  of  his  life.  Cotes  and  Ramsay 
shared,  in  some  degree,  with  him  the  fashion  of  the 
day;  for  each  of  those  painters  had  employment  from 
the  court  of  England,  where  Reynolds  as  an  artist 
was  never  able  to  become  a  favourite.  From  that 
source  of  envied  and  enviable  honour,  he  had  not  the 
happiness  of  receiving  a  single  commission ;  for  it  is 
to  be  observed,  that  those  exquisite  portraits  of  the 
King  and  Queen,  now  in  the  council-room  of  the  Royal 


83  MEMOIRS  OF 

Academy,  wovg  painted  at  the  request  of  Reynolds 
himself,  purposely  for  that  place. 

Mr.  Coles  has  ?»ow  been  dead  upwards  of  forty 
years,  having  lived  only  two  years  after  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Royal  Academy,  of  which  he  was  a 
member,  and  indeed  one  of  the  four  who  signed  the> 
petition  to  his  Majesty  to  solicit  its  foundation. 

This  was  the  artist  whom  Hogarth  considered 
superior  to  Reynolds  as  a  portrait  painter;  but  per- 
haps his  great  excellence  ought  to  be  confined  solely 
to  his  portraits  in  crayons,  in  which  style  he  was 
certainly  superior  to  most  of  his  rivals,  as  has  been 
prQperly  remarked  by  Mr.  Edwards.  In  oils,  how- 
ever, he  must  be  considered  totally  inferior  to  his 
illustrious  competitor;  and  he  was  evidently  so  in  tlie 
opinion  of  the  public,  as  his  price  for  a  three-quarter 
never  exceeded  twenty  guineas. 

Mr.  Allan  Ramsay,  even  if  possessed  of  no  merit 
of  his  own,  would  always  have  been  noticed  as  the 
son  of  Allan,  the  Scottish  poet^  and  the  Burns  of  the 
early  part  of  the  last  century. 

His  father  is  called  a  self-taught  poet.  It  is  difficult, 
however,  to  know  what  that  means  when  said  by  way 
of  distiucticm — every  real  poet  must  be  self-taught. 
And  the  son,  in  the  same  manner,  is  said  to  be  a  self- 
taught  painter,  because  he  had  received  no  instruc- 
tions till  he  gave  them  to  himself  in  Italy;  as  every 
good  painter  has  done  before  him,  either  there  or  else- 
where. But  his  being  the  compatriot  of  the  Earl  of 
Bute  was  a  ready  passport  to  royal  notice  on  his 
return,  particularly  when  added  to  his  own  abilities. 
He  was  certainly  superior  to  the  artists  of  his  time  in 
general;  though  his  excellence  did  not  warrant  Wal- 
pole  in  classing  him  so  exactly  with  Sir  Joshua,  when 
he  said,  '^  Reynolds  and  Ramsay  have  wanted  sub- 
jects, not  genius."  But  I  have  heard  Sir  Joshua  say, 
that  Ramsay  was  the  most  sensible  man  of  all  the 
living  artists  ;  and  therefore  it  proved  that  some- 
thing besides  good  sense  is  required  to  make  a  good 
painter. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  83 

Without  entering  into  a  tedious  detail  of  minute 
circumstances  and  of  tlie  petty  animosities  at  that  time 
existing  among  the  artists,  I  shall  briefly  observe,  that 
during  all  the  contentions  between  the  Society  of 
Artists,  Dalton's  Royal  Academy  in  Pall  Mall,  and 
the  intrigues  and  quarrels  that  occupied  so  much  of 
the  public  press  and  of  the  public  time,  Mr.  Reynolds 
did  not  interfere;  his  name,  indeed,  was  on  the  roll  of 
the  Society  at  its  first  incorporation,  and  he  was  after- 
wards appointed  one  of  the  directors,  but  he  did  not 
act,  and,  as  quaintly  observed  by  a  writer  of  that 
time,  "  did  not  like  them  much ;" — in  fact,  he  had 
long  withdrawn  himself  from  the  private  meetings  of 
the  directors,  declaring  publicly,  that  he  was  no  friend 
to  their  proceedings. 

Much  credit  is,  however,  due  to  him,  for  liis  ex- 
ertions in  favor  of  the  public  exhibitions ;  and  Barry, 
indeed,  does  him  full  justice  in  one  of  his  lectures, 
when  spealcing  of  them  as  established  by  Sir  Joshua, 
lie  says,  "  to  which  we  owe  almost  all  the  art  we  can 
boast."  In  this  year  (I768,)  in  order  at  once  to  put  an 
end  to  these  jarring  interests,  a  rational  and  extended 
plan  was  drawn  up  for  the  present  Royal  Academy, 
of  which,  it  has  since  been  well  observed  by  Barry, 
under  the  reign  of  bis  present  Majesty,  our  most 
gracious  patron,  the  arts  were,  in  some  measure,  raised 
out  of  that  disgraceful  obscurity  in  whicii  they  had 
been  so  long  buried  ;  and  a  Royal  Academy  was  in- 
stituted under  the  King's  immediate  protection,  for 
the  purpose  of  bringing  forward  that  great  line  of  his- 
torical, superior  art;  from  the  successful  [)rosecution 
of  which  only,  the  King  and  public  can  expect  to  see 
its  reputation  worthy  their  attention.'' 

Notwithstanding  the  part  which  Mr.  Reynolds  was 
taking  in  the  necessary  preparations  for  this  establisli- 
ment,  yet  he  found  time  to  gratify  himself  with  a  trip 
to  Paris,  in  tiie  autumn  of  tliis  year,  in  company  with 
Mr.  William  Burke,  who,  in  a'letter  dated  the  10th  of 
October,  from  that  metropolis,  says,  "  Mr.  Reynolds 
and  I  make  this  scamper  togetlier,  and  are  both  ex- 

M 


81  Memoirs  of 

tremely  satisfied  with  our  tour;  we  return  in  a  f*ew 
days.'' 

His  return  took  place  w  ithin  the  expected  time ; 
and  so  forward  were  tlie  proposed  arrangements,  tliat 
on  tlie  28th  of  November  a  petition  AVas  presented  to 
his  Majesty,  of  which  .the  professed  objects  were  the 
establishment  of  a  well  regulated  school  or  academy 
of  design,  for  the  use  of  students  in  tlie  arts,  and  an 
annual  exhibition  open  to  all  artists  of  distinguished 
merit,  w  here  they  should  have  an  opportunity  of  pre- 
senting their  productions  to  the  inspection  of  the  pub- 
lic, and  of  thereby  obtaining  such  share  of  general 
reputation  and  encouragement  ,as  their  performances 
might  seem  to  merit. 

It  was  intended  to  supply  the  funds  for  the  support 
of  the  institution,  by  the  produce  of  this  annual  exhibi- 
tion ;  and  his  Majesty  was  graciously  pleased  to 
promise  what  further  aid  it  might  require,  from  the 
privy  purse.  This  aid  was  necessary,  for  a  few  years, 
to  the  amount  of  5000/. ;  but  the  sums  raised  by  the 
exhibitions  were  soon  so  considerable,  as  not  only  to 
render  the  royal  munificence  unnecessary,  but  even  to 
accumulate  a  large  surplus  in  the  funds,  now  forming 
the  basis  of  a  liberal  fund  for  decayed  artists.  For  tlie 
first  twenty  years,  the  net  produce,  on  an  average, 
amounted  to  upwards  of  1500/.  per  annum,  and  since 
that  it  has  amounted  to  an  additional  1000/. 

A  very  good  view  of  the  regulations  of  this  estab- 
lishment may  be  found  in  the  Monthly  Magazine  for 
March,  1810;  and  I  may  here  observe,  that  annual- 
prizes  were  also  determined  on  as  stimulants  to  rising 
genius.  These  were,  of  course,  to  be  awarded  to  the 
best  productions ;  but  it  was  w  hirasically  quoted  at  the 
time,  from  the  laws  of  the  ancient  city  of  Thebes,  that 
formerly  the  painter  who  exhibited  the  worst  picture, 
Avas  also  subject  to  a  fine ! 

Professorships  were  likewise  establislied,  and  Dr. 
Johnson  was  nominated  Professor  of  Ancient  Litera- 
ture; an  ofifice,  indeed,  merely  honorary,  but  conferred 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  85 

on  him,  as  Sir  John  Hawkins  hints,  at  the  recom- 
mendation of  Mr.  Reynolds. 

Goldsmith  also  was  not  forgotten,  he  having  re- 
ceived the  complimentary  appointment  of  Professor  of 
Ancient  History;  an  office,  like  the  preceding,  without 
trouble  or  salary,  and,  as  Dr.  Percy  observed,  merely 
giving  him  a  place  at  the  annual  dinner. 

Goldsmith  himself,  in  a  letter  to  his  brotlier,  says 
of  it — '^  The  King  has  lately  been  pleased  to  make 
me  Professor  of  Ancient  History  in  a  Royal  Academy' 
of  Painting,  which  he  has  just  established  ;  but  there 
is  no  salary  annexed;  and  I  took  it,  rather  as  a  com- 
pliment to  the  Institution,  than  any  benefit  to  myself, 
Honours  to  one  in  my  situation  are  something  like 
ruffles  to  a  man  that  v/ants  a  shirt." 

But  the  most  importrnt  event  as  relative  to  this  In^ 
stitution,  and  as  connected  with  the  subject  of  the 
present  biography,  was,  tljat  in  order  to  give  dignity 
to  this  Royal  Academy  of  Painting,  Sculpture,  and 
Architecture,  which  was  composed  of  the  ablest  and 
most  respectable  artists  then  resident  in  Great  Britairi, 
Reynolds  was  elected  the  first  president  by  an  unani- 
mous vote.  On  that  occasion  he  was  knighted,  per- 
liaps  with  a  view  to  dignify  him :  and  indeed,  had 
that  distinction  been  always  so  bestowedj  it  would 
really  have  been  an  honour,  and  not  the  subject  of 
those  sarcasms  which  but  too  often  accompany  the 
title.  Reynolds  received  it  with  satisfaction,  as  he 
well  knew  that  it  would  give  additional  splendour  to 
his  works  in  vulgar  eyes.  It  is  not  matter  of  surprize 
that  his  election  as  president  was  unanimous;  it  is 
certain  that  every  circumstance  considered,  he  was 
the  most  fit,  if  not  tlie  only  person,  qualified  to  take 
the  chair:  his  professional  rank,  his  large  fortune,  the 
circle  of  society  in  which  he  moved,  all  these  con- 
tributed to  establish  his  claim ;  and  to  these  vyas  added 
a  still  more  urgent  motive,  naniely,  that  he  had  re- 
fused (as  I  have  been  told),  to  belong  to  the  Society  on 
any  other  conditions.  Accordingly  the  Royal  Acade- 
my of  Arts  in  London  was  opened  on  the  10th  of  De 


86  MEMOIRS  OF 

comber,  I768,  by  Sir  Josbua  Reynolds,  Kiit.,  with  a 
discourse  adapted  to  the  occasion. 

This  honour  of  knighthood  was  hii;hly  gratifying  to 
all  Sir  Joshua's  friends.  Dr.  .lohnson  acknowledged 
that  for  years  he  had  not  tasted  wine,  until  he  was 
induced  to  break  tjirough  his  rule  of  abstemiousness 
in  order  to  celebrate  his  friend's  elevation:  and  Barry 
afterwards  observed,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  liurke,  *•  I 
have  a  notion,  some  how  or  other,  that  the  arts  would 
be  just  now  of  some  consequence,  and  pretty  much  of 
a  public  concern,  did  not  tlie  state  competitors,  of 
whom  the  papers  are  so  full,  divert  the  attention  of 
the  public  into  another  channel. 

"  However,  1  can  say  with  truth,  that  as  nobody  is 
more  an  enthusiast  for  Art  tlian  1  am,  so  there  is  no 
one  who  rejoices  more  sincerely  at  the  honour  done 
Art  by  the  title  and  dignity  his  Majesty  has  gracious- 
ly conferred  on  that  person  whose  plan  of  a  public 
exhibition  has  been  as  serviceable  to  the  art  as  his 
performances  were.  The  public  opinion  will  supply 
what  I  would  say." 

The  task  of  delivering  discourses  in  the  Academy 
was  no  part  of  the  prescribed  duty  of  this  office,  first 
so  ably  filled  by  Sir  Joshua:  but  was  voluntarily  im- 
posed on  himself,  for  reasons  which  shall  be  after- 
wards noticed,  whilst  taking  a  slight  view  of  his 
fifteenth  discourse. 

Before  we  proceed  to  investigate  the  purport  of  his 
discourses  in  their  regular  order,  it  may  be  well  here 
to  observe,  that  the  delivery  of  these  discourses  was 
not  particularly  happy,  considering  the  great  taste  of 
the  speaker  in  other  respects,  and  cannot  be  much 
commended ;  which  may  be  accounted  for  from  two 
causes ;  first,  that  his  deafness  might  have  prevented 
his  being  well  able  to  modulate  his  voice ;  but  second- 
ly, I  am  rather  of  opinion  that  the  real  cause  was, 
that  as  no  man  ever  felt  a  greater  horror  at  affectation 
than  he  did,  so  he  feared  to  assume  the  orator,  lest  it 
should  have  that  appearance :  he  therefore  naturally 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  87 

fell  into  the  opposite  extreme  as  tlie  safest  retreat, 
from  what  he  thouglit  the  greatest  evil. 

It  has  been  related  as  an  anecdote,  that  on  one  of 
the  evenings  when  he  delivered  his  discourse,  and 
when  the  andience  was,  as  usual,  numerous,  and  com- 
posed principally  of  the  learned  and  the  great,  the 

Earl  of  C ,  who  was  present  came  up  to  iiim, 

saying,  "  Sir  Joshua,  you  read  your  discourse  in  so 
low  a  tone,  that  I  could  not  distinguish  one  word  yoii 
said."  To  which  the  President,  with  a  smile  replied, 
"  That  was  to  my  advantage.'^ 

There  is  some  little  difficulty  in  fixing  the  exact 
date  of  his  first  discourse;  some  accounts  stating  it;^ 
delivery  on  the  10th  of  December,  I768,  when  the 
Academy  was  first  opened  :  in  Malone's  edition  of  his 
works,  it  is  indeed  dated  on  the  2nd  of  January, 
1709;  wliilst  Sir  Joshua  himself,  in  a  letter  to  Barry, 
which  will  be  hereafter  inserted,  speaks  of  its  being 
delivered  on  the  first  of  that  month. 

AVithout  attempting  to  reconcile  those  jarry  date«!, 
I  shall  merely  observe,  that  the  objects  he  had  in 
view  in  this  first  discourse,  were  to  imprint  upon  the 
minds  of  his  audience  how  many  advantages  might  be 
expected  from  such  an  institution :  after  which  he 
offered  hints  for  the  consideration  both  of  the  pro- 
fessors and  of  the  visitors,  whose  office  it  is  to  attend 
the  scliool  of  the  living  model.  He  next  showed  the 
absolute  necessity  of  an  implicit  obedience  to  all  the 
rules  of  art,  on  the  part  of  the  youthful  students, 
warning  thera  to  repress  any  premature  or  irregular 
disposition  to  aim  at  masterly  dexterity  before  they 
had  well  acquired  the  necessary  rudiments :  and  he 
then  showed,  to  render  even  diligence  effectual,  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  that  it  should  always  be  directed 
to  proper  objects. 

In  alluding  to  the  extraordinary  circumstance  of 
such  an  institution  not  having  been  before  established, 
he  observed,  that  "  It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  give  any 
other  reason  why  an  empire  like  that  of  Britain  should 
so  long  have  wanted  an  ornament  so  suitable  to  its 


88  MEMOIRS  OF 

greatness,  than  that  slow  progression  of  things  which 
naturally  makes  elegance  and  refinement  the  last 
eQ'cci  of  opulence  and  power."' 

After  shewing  tliat  tiie  Academy  had  commenced 
its  labours  at,  perhaps,  the  happiest  possible  period, 
not  only  from  the  patronage  of  the  Monarch,  and  from 
the  general  desire  among  the  nobility  to  be  distinguish- 
ed as  lovers  and  judges  of  the  arts,  as  well  as  from 
the  greater  superfluity  of  public  wealth  in  general  to 
reward  the  professors,  but  also  from  the  fact,  that 
there  was,  at  that  time,  a  greater  number  of  excellent 
artists  than  were  ever  known  before,  at  one  period,  in 
the  nation;  he  pointed  out  the  principal  advantages 
resulting  from  the  academy  to  the  art  itself,  to  consist, 
not  only  in  its  furnishing  ahle  men  to  direct  the 
student,  but  in  being,  also,  a  repository  for  the  great 
examples  of  the  art.  "  These,"  said  he,  "  are  the 
materials  on  which  genius  is  to  work,  and  without 
which  the  strongest  intellect  may  be  fruitlessly  or 
deviously  employed.'' 

Whilst  recommending  strict  attention  to  the  stu- 
dents, he  particularly  inculcated,  that  "  those  models 
which  have  passed  through  the  approbation  of  ages, 
should  be  considered  by  them  as  perfect  and  infalla- 
ble  guides :  as  subjects  for  their  imitation,  not  their 
criticism :"  and  he  then  expressed  his  confidence,  that 
this  was  the  only  efficacious  way  of  making  any  pro- 
gress in  the  arts;  adding,  that  he  who  sets  out  with 
doubting,  will  find  life  finished  before  he  becomes 
master  even  of  the  rudiments  of  his  profession.  He 
here  considered  it  as  a  maxim,  that  he  who  begins  by 
presuming  on  his  own  sense,  has  ended  his  studies  as 
soon  as  he  has  commenced  them;  and  from  this  he 
took  occasion  to  observe,  that  every  opportunity 
should  be  seized  to  discountenance  that  false  and 
vulgar  opinion,  that  rules  are  the  fetters  of  genius.  In 
contradiction  to  such  an  opinion,  he  asserted,  that 
they  were  fetters  only  to  men  of  no  genius ;  as  that 
armour  which,  upon  the  strong,  is  an  ornament  and 
defence,  becomes  a  load  upon  the  weak  and  mis- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  S9 

ishapen,  crippling  that  body  which  it  was  intended  to 
protect. 

The  advantages  of  assiduity  he  proved  by  expe- 
rience : — ''  AYhen  we  read  the  lives  of  the  most 
eminent  painters,  every  page  informs  us,  that  no  part 
of  their  time  was  spent  in  dissipation.  Even  an  in- 
crease of  fame  served  only  to  augment  their  industry. 
To  be  convinced  with  what  persevering  assiduity  they 
pursued  their  studies,  we  need  only  reflect  on  their 
method  of  proceeding  in  their  most  celebrated  works. 
When  they  conceived  a  subject,  they  first  made  a  varie- 
ty of  sketches,  then  a  finished  drawing  of  the  whole  ; 
after  that,  a  more  correct  drawing  of  every  separate 
part — heads,  hands,  feet,  and  pieces  of  drapery  ;  they 
then  painted  the  picture  ;  and,  after  all,  retouched  it 
from  the  life.  The  pictures,  thus  wrought  with  such 
pains,  now  appear  like  the  effect  of  enchantment,  and 
as  if  some  mighty  genius  had  struck  them  off  at"  a 
blow!*' 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  spirited  discourse,  he  ex- 
pressed his  hope  that  the  Institution  might  answer  the 
expectation  of  its  Royal  Founder — "  that  the  present 
age  may  vie  in  arts  with  that  of  Leo  the  Tenth ;  and 
that //zf?  dignity  of  the  dying  art  (to  make  use  of  an 
expression  of  Pliny)  may  be  revived  under  the  reigu 
of  George  the  Third.*' 

This  spirited  oration  gave  general  satisfaction,  and 
in  a  periodical  journal  of  that  time,  it  was  obsers'ed, 
that  this  discourse  certainly  did  honour  to  the  Presi- 
dent as  a  painter,  if  any  honour  could  be  added  to  that 
which  he  had  already  acquired  by  his  pencil.  It  was 
also  acknowledged,  that  it  had  great  merit  as  a  litera- 
ry composition;  whilst  Sir  Joshua's  idea,  ''  that  the 
Academy  would  at  least  contribute  to  advance  the 
knowledge  of  the  arts,  and  bring  us  nearer  to  that 
ideal  excellence  which  it  is  the  lot  of  genius  always 
to  contemplate,  but  never  to  attain/*'  is  followed  by 
the  observation,  that  this  sentiment,  none  but  a  genius 
conscious  of  the  idea  of  unattainable  perfection,  and 


go  MEMOIRS  OF 

of  a  perpetual  effort  to  approach  it,  could  have  con- 
ceived. 

As  a  further  testimony  of  Sir  Joshua's  merit,  and 
well  deserved  elevation,  Barry  says,  in  a  letter,  in 
the  early  part  of  this  year,  to  Mr.  Burke,  "I  am 
happy  to  find  Mr.  lleynolds  is  at  the  head  of  this 
academy;"  (this  was  previous  to  his  hearing  of  liis 
knighthood;)  ''  from  his  known  public  spirit,  and 
warm  desire  of  raising  up  art  among  us,  (which  ex- 
erted itself  so  successfully  in  establishing  the  Exhibi*- 
tion.)  he  will,  I  have  no  doubt,  contrive  this  institu- 
tion to  be  productive  of  all  the  advantages  that  could 
possibly  be  derived  from  it;  and  whilst  it  is  in  such 
hands  as  his,  we  shall  have  nothing  to  fear  from  those 
sliallovvs  and  quicksands  upon  which  the  Italian  and 
French  academies  have  lost  themselves  :"  and  on 
another  occasion,  in  the  same  year,  he  wrote  from 
Paris  to  Mr.  Burke,  wliilst  speaking  of  the  paintings 
at  Versailles,  "  What  I  have  seen  since,  gives  me 
more  and  more  reason  to  admire  Mr.  Reynolds;  you 
know  my  sentiments  of  him  already,  and  the  more  I 
know  and  see  of  the  art,  the  less  likely  they  are  to 
change." 

On  the  first  of  January,  1/69,  a  poetical  tribute  was 
paid  to  the  arts,  and  to  the  new  Academy  of  London, 
by  the  pen  of  the  Reverend  Dr.  Thomas  Francklin, 
Chaplain  to  the  King,  and  translator  of  Phalaris, 
Sophocles,  and  Lucian,  into  English,  and  author  also 
of  tlnee  plays,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  and  Matilda, 
tragedies,  and  the  Contract,  a  comedy. 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  ARTS. 

AVhen  Discord,  late,  her  baleful  influence  shed 
O'er  the  fair  realms  of  Science  and  of  Art, 
Neglected  Genius  bent  his  drooping  head, 
And  pierced  with  anguish  ev'ry  tuneful  heart; 

Apollo  wept  his  broken  lyre, 

Wept  to  behold  the  mournful  choir 
Of  his  lov'd  Muses,  now  an  exil'd  train, 
And  in  their  seats  to  see  Alecto  reign. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  0| 

When  lo!  Britannia,  to  the  throne 
Of  goodness  makes  her  sorrows  known, 

For  never  there  did  grief  complain, 

Or  injur'd  merit  piead  in  vain. 
The  monarch  heard  her  just  request, 
He  saw,  he  felt,  and  he  redressed  ; 

Quick  with  a  master  hand  he  tunes  the  strings, 

And  harmony  from  discords  springs. 

Thus  good,  by  Heav'n's  command,  from  evil  flows, 
From  Chaos,  thus,  of  old,  Creation  rose  ; 
"When  order  with  confusion  join'd, 
And  jarring  elements  combin'd, 

To  grace  with  mutual  strength  the  great  design, 

And  speak  the  Architect  divine. 

Whilst  Eastern  tyrants,  in  the  trophy-d  car. 
Wave  the  red  banner  of  destructive  war, 

In  George's  breast  a  nobler  flame 

Is  kindled,  and  a  fairer  fame 
Excites  to  cherish  native  wortli, 
To  call  the  latent  seeds  of  genius  forth. 
To  bid  discordant  factions  cease, 
And  cultivate  the  gentle  arts  of  peace. 

And  lo!  from  this  auspicious  day. 

The  sun  of  science  beams  a  purer  ray. 

Behold !  a  brighter  train  of  years, 
A  new  Augustian  age  appears; 

The  time,  nor  distant  far,  shall  come, 
When  England's  tasteful  youth  no  more 
Shall  wander  to  Italia's  classic  shore; 

No  more  to  foreign  climes  shall  roam 
In  search  of  models,  better  found  at  home. 

With  rapture  the  prophetic  muse 

Tier  country's  opening  glories  views, 

Already  sees,  with  wond'ring  eyes. 

Our  Titians  and  our  Guidos  rise. 
Sees  new  Palladois  grace  th'  historic  page, 
And  British  Raffaelles  charm  a  future  age. 

Meantime,  ye  sons  of  art,  your  offerings  bring, 
To  grace  your  Patron  and  your  King, 
Bid  sculpture  grace  his  honour'd  name 
In  marble,  lasting  as  his  fame  : 
Bid  Painting's  magic  pencil  trace 
The  features  of  his  darling  race. 


99  MEMOIRS  OF 

And  as  it  flows  through  all  the  royal  line, 
Glow  with  superior  warmth  and  energy  divine. 

If  tow'ring  Architecture  still 

Can  boast  her  old  creative  skill, 
Bid  some  majestic  structure  rise  to  view, 

Worthy  him,  and  worthy  you  ; 
Where  art  may  join  with  nature  and  with  sense, 
Splendor  with  grace — with  taste,  magnificence; 
Where  strength  may  be  with  elegance  combined, 
The  perfect  image  of  its  master's  mind. 

And  oh!  if  with  the  tuneful  throng 
The  muse  may  dare  to  mix  her  humble  song, 
In  your  glad  train  permit  her  to  appear. 
Though  poor,  yet  willing,  and  though  rude,  sincere, 
To  praise  the  Sov'reign  whom  her  heart  approves, 
And  pay  this  tribute  to  the  ART  she  loves." 

On  the  2d  of  the  month,  the  academy  was  opened, 
and  a  general  meeting  of  the  Royal  Academicians  took 
place,  when  some  public  business  was  gone  through  ; 
after  which  the  whole  body  adjourned  to  an  elegant 
entertainment  at  the  St.  Alban's  Tavern,  where  Sir 
Joshua  presided  with  his  accustomed  urbanity,  the 
meeting  being  honoured  with  the  presence  of  many  of 
the  most  distinguished  nobility,  who  were  now  proud 
to  come  forward  as  patrons  of  the  arts. 

It  seems  beneath  the  dignity  even  of  biography,  to 
note  these  things  which  many  will  esteem  trifling  in 
themselves,  yet  the  time  may  come  when  even  these 
particulars  will  be  of  some  interest ;  and  as  this  period 
was  an  era  in  the  annals  of  British  art,  I  must  be  al- 
lowed to  mark  it  by  the  gratulations  of  the  Poets  of 
the  day,  who  exprest  their  good  wishes  in  the  best 
manner  they  were  able,  and  no  doubt  would  have 
done  it  much  better  if  it  had  been  in  their  power.  In 
that  point  of  view,  therefore,  I  shall  not  refrain  from 
inserting  a  song  made  for  the  occasion,  by  the  good 
old  Mr.  Hull,  the  commedian,  and  sung  at  this  joy- 
ous meeting  by  Mr.  Vernon,  the  fashionable  per- 
former of  the  day. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  9^ 

SONG. 

Let  Science  hail  this  happy  year, 

Let  Fame  its  rising  glories  sing, 
When  arts  unwonted  lustre  wear, 

And  boast  a  patron  in  their  King ; 
And  here  unrivall'd  shall  they  reign, 

For  George  protects  the  polish'd  train. 

To  you  just  ripen'd  into  birth, 

He  gives  the  fair,  the  great  design ; 
'Tis  ^o?<rs,  ye  Sires,  of  genuine  worth, 
/  To  bid  the  future  artists  shine ; 

That  arts  unrivall'd  long  may  reign, 
Where  George  protects  the  polish'd  train. 

'Tis  yours,  0  well  selected  band, 

To  watch  where  infant  genius  blows, 
To  rear  the  flower  with  fost'ring  hand, 
And  ev'ry  latent  sweet  disclose  j 
So  arts  unrivall'd  long  will  reign, 
Where  George  protects  the  polish'd  train. 

No  more  to  distant  realms  repair 

For  foreign  aid,  or  borrovv'd  rule, 
Beneath  her  Monarch's  gen'rous  care, 
Britannia  founds  a  nobler  school, 
Where  arts  unrivall'd  shall  remain, 
For  George  protects  the  polish'd  train. 

So  shall  her  sons  in  Science  bred, 

Diffuse  her  arts  from  shore  to  shore, 
And  wide  her  growing  genius  spread, 
As  round  the  world  her  thunders  rourj 
For  he,  who  rules  the  subject  main, 
Great  George  protects  the  polish'd  train." 

This  song,  so  congenial  to  the  flattering  hopes  of  the 
company,  whose  cares  were,  for  a  time,  suspended  in 
festivity,  and  who  had  met  to  be  gay,  was  received 
with  much  applause. 

On  Wednesday,  the  26th  of  April,  the  exhibition  of 
the  Royal  Academy,  in  Pall  Mall,  was  opened  for 
the  first  time,  and  drew  the  greatest  crowds  and  of  the 
highest  fashion ;  and  it  was  observed  in  the  periodical 


94  MEMO[RS  OF 

journals  of  the  time,  that  the  encouragement  given  to 
this  institution  was  even  already  visible  in  tlie  works 
of  genius  then  exhibited  :  and  I  may  take  the  opjior- 
tunity  of  noting  in  this  place,  that  Sir  Joshua's  ex- 
ertions to  raise  the  character  of  the  Academy,  were  not 
contined  to  his  discourses  alone ;  as  from  its  first 
opening,  until  the  year  17i)0,  inclusive,  it  appears  that 
he  sent  no  less  tlian  two  hundred  and  forty-four  pic- 
tures to  tlic  various  exhibitions. 

In  this  year  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  wrote  a  most 
excellent  letter  to  Barry,  then  a  student  at  Kome.  It 
is  so  descriptive  of  the  writer's  principles,  and  so 
honourable  to  his  feelings  as  an  artist,  that  I  sliall 
insert  it  here  at  length,  only  premising,  that  it  was 
partly  addressed  to  Barry  in  consequence  of  a  letter 
from  him  to  Mr.  Burke,  in  which  he  described  him- 
self as  engaged  in  some  contests  with  the  picture 
dealers  at  Home,  who  were  acting  very  illiberally 
towards  young  English  artists,  and  using  underhand 
means  to  prevent  their  being  employed  by  various 
travellers  in  copying  or  making  originals,  as  those 
dealers  in  rotten  pictures  earnestly  desired  to  possess 
themselves  of  all  the  loose  cash  which  affluent  tourists 
had  purposed  to  lay  out  in  Vertu. 

"  DEAR  SIR, 

^'  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  re- 
membrance of  me  in  ^our  letter  to  Mr.  Burke,  which, 
though  I  have  read  with  great  pleasure  as  a  compo- 
sition, I  cannot  help  saying  with  some  regret,  to  find 
that  so  great  a  portion  of  your  attention  has  been  en- 
gaged upon  temporary  matters,  which  might  be  so 
much  more  profitably  employed  upon  what  would 
gtick  by  you  through  your  whole  life. 

''  Whoever  is  resolved  to  excel  in  painting,  or,  in- 
deed, in  any  other  art,  must  bring  all  liis  mind  to  bear 
upon  that  one  object,  from  the  moment  he  rises  till  he 
goes  to  bed;  the  effect  of  every  object  that  meets  the 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  gg 

painter's  eye  may  give  him  a  lesson,  provided  his 
mind  is  calm,  unembarrassed  vv^itli  other  objects,  and 
open  to  instruction.  This  general  attention,  witli 
other  studies  connected  with  the  art,  which  must  em- 
ploy the  artist  in  bis  closet,  will  be  found  sufficient  to 
fill  up  life,  if  it  was  much  longer  than  it  is.  Were  1  in 
your  place,  I  would  consider  myself  as  playing  a  great 
game,  and  never  suifer  the  little  malice  and  envy  of 
my  rivals  to  draw  oif  my  attention  from  tbe  main 
object;  whicli,  if  you  pursue  with  a  steady  eye,  it  will 
not  be  in  the  power  of  all  the  Cieerones  in  tiie  world 
to  hurt  you.  Whilst  they  are  endeavouring  to  prevent 
the  gentlemen  from  employing  the  young  Jirtists,  in- 
stead of  injuring  them,  they  are,  in  my  opinion,  doing 
them  the  greatest  service. 

^'  Whilst  I  was  at  Rome  I  was  very  little  employed 
by  them,  and  that  I  always  considered  as  so  much 
time  lost :  copying  those  ornamental  pictures,  which 
the  travelling  gentlemen  always  bring  home  with  them 
as  furniture  for  their  houses,  is  far  from  being  the 
most  profitable  manner  of  a  student  spending  his  time. 
Whoever  has  great  views,  I  would  recommend  to  him, 
whilst  at  Rome,  rather  to  live  on  bread  and  water, 
than  lose  those  advantages  which  he  can  never  hope 
to  enjoy  a  second  time,  and  which  he  will  find  only 
in  the  Vatican ;  where,  I  will  engage,  no  cavalier 
sends  his  students  to  copy  for  him.  I  do  not  meau 
this  as  any  reproach  to  the  gentlemen ;  the  works  in 
that  place,  though  they  are  the  proper  study  of  an 
artist,  make  but  an  awkward  figure  painted  in  oil, 
and  reduced  to  the  size  of  easel  pictures.  The 
Capella  Sistina  is  the  production  of  the  greatest 
genius  that  was  ever  employed  in  the  arts;  it  is  worth 
considering  by  what  principles  that  stupendous  great- 
ness of  style  is  produced  ;  and  endeavouring  to  pro- 
duce something  of  your  own  on  those  principles,  will 
be  a  more  advantageous  method  of  study,  than  copy- 
ing the  St.  Cecilia  in  the  Borghese,  or  the  Herodias 
of  Guide,  which  may  be  copied  to  eternity,  witliout 


96  MEMOIRS  OF 

contributing  one  jot  towards  making  a  man  a  more 
able  painter. 

''  If  you  neglect  visiting  the  Vatican  often,  and 
particularly  the  Capella  Sistina,  you  will  neglect  re- 
ceiving that  peculiar  advantage  which  Rome  can  give 
above  all  other  cities  in  the  world.  In  other  places 
you  will  find  casts  from  the  antique,  and  capital  pic- 
tures of  the  great  painters,  but  it  is  Were,  only  that  you 
can  form  an  idea  of  the  dignity  of  the  art,  as  it  is  there 
only  that  you  can  see  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo 
and  Raffaelle.  If  you  should  not  relish  them  at  first, 
which  may  probably  be  the  case,  as  they  have  none 
of  those  qualities  which  are  captivating  at  first  sight, 
never  cease  looking  till  you  feel  something  like  in- 
spiration come  over  you,  till  you  think  every  other 
painter  insipid,  in  comparison,  and  to  be  admired  only 
for  petty  excellencies. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  the  establishment  of 
a  Royal  Academy  here ;  the  first  opportunity  I  have  I 
will  send  you  the  discourse  I  delivered  at  its  open- 
ing, which  was  the  first  of  January.  As  I  hope  you 
will  be  hereafter  one  of  our  body,  I  wish  you  would, 
as  opportunity  oifers,  make  memorandums  of  the 
the  regulations  of  the  academies  that  you  may  visit  in 
your  travels,  to  be  engrafted  on  our  own,  if  they  should 
be  found  useful. 

"  I  am,  with  the  greatest  esteem,  yours, 

"  J.  Reynolds. 

'^  On  reading  my  letter  over,  I  think  it  requires 
some  apology  for  the  blunt  appearance  of  a  dictatorial 
style,  in  which  I  have  obtruded  my  advice.  I  am 
forced  to  write  in  a  great  hurry,  and  have  little  time 
for  polishing  my  style." 

In  the  month  of  October,  this  year.  Sir  Joshua  was 
called  on  to  attend  the  sessions  in  the  Old  Bailey,  in 
company  with  Dr.  Johnson,  Garrick,  Dr.  Goldsmith, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  9^ 

and  several  other  distinguished  characters,  to  give 
evidence  to  character  in  favor  of  the  well  known  Mr. 
Barretti,  in  consequence  of  his  being  obliged  to  stand 
trial  under  a  verdict  of  manslaughter,  found  against 
him  by  a  coroner's  inquest,  on  the  10th  of  the  month. 

This  unfortunate  circumstance  arose  from  Mr.  Bar- 
rett! having  been  attacked  on  the  5th  in  the  evening, 
at  the  end  of  Panton-street,  going  into  the  Haymarket, 
by  a  prostitute,  who  rudely  and  indecently  accosted 
him.  He  pushed  her  from  him,  but  she  finding  by  his 
accent  that  he  was  a  foreigner  immediately  called  him 
by  the  most  opprobious  names;  and  her  loud  tones 
having  brought  up  a  bully,  he  began  to  assault  Mr. 
Barretti  in  the  most  outrageous  manner. 

Some  more  of  the  gang  then  approached,  and  attempt- 
ed to  hustle  him,  when  he  was  obliged,  in  his  defence, 
to  pull  out  a  small  knife,  warning  them  not  to  use  him 
ill,  that  he  would  not  bear  it,  and  would  strike  the 
first  person  that  should  come  near  him. 

He  then  ran,  and  as  they  pursued  him,  he  kept 
moving  his  hand  backward  and  forward  in  running 
from  them,  to  defend  himself,  and  thus  wounded  two    1 
of  his  assailants,  one  of  whom  died  afterwards  in  the    %^ 
Middlesex  hospital.    The  crowd  was  now  so  great,       ^ 
that  Mr.  Barretti,  no  longer  in  dread  of  his  life,  im-  \ 

mediately  submitted  himself,  and  was  committed  by 
Sir  John  Fielding  to  Tothill-fields  prison. 

The  coroner's  inquest  sat  two  days  before  they 
brought  in  their  verdict,  when  Barretti  was  admitted 
to  bail,  and  the  trial  taking  place  on  the  S3rd,  he  re- 
fused to  avail  himself  of  the  usual  privilege  of  having 
half  his  jury  composed  of  foreigners ;  but  the  evi- 
dences for  the  prosecution  so  completely  contradicted 
themselves  and  each  other,  that  little  more  was  ne- 
cessary than  for  him  to  explain  the  circumstances, 
which  he  did,  justifying  the  act  as  one  of  self-defence, 
after  having  been  repeatedly  struck  and  abused;  at 
the  same  time  asserting,  that  the  knife  was  drawn 
only  to  terrify,  and  not  to  wound,  though  the  pressing 


98  MEMOIRS  OF 

of  tlie  populace  in  his  retreat  had,  in  a  moment  of 
agitation,  led  hira  further  than  he  at  first  intended. 

This  was  confirmed  by  some  most  respectable  eye- 
witnesses; and  the  host  of  brilliant  evidence,  in  favour 
of  his  general  character,  immediately  drew  forth  a 
verdict  of  acquittal,  to  the  complete  satisfaction  of  tlie 
court  and  of  the  public  at  large. 

The  only  pupil  whom  Sir  Joshua  had  at  this  period 
was  Mr.  Charles  Gill,  son  of  a  person  at  Bath,  whose 
exquisite  taste  as  a  pastry  cook  has  been  particularly 
noticed  by  Anstey  in  his  celebrated  poem.  Mr.  Gill, 
the  younger,  has,  however,  not  been  so  celebrated  in 
his  art,  and  is  unhappily  one  of  those  whom  Mr. 
Edwards  notices  to  have  been  peculiarly  unfortunate, 
having  received  a  very  severe  wound  in  his  thigh, 
which  has  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  his  leg. 

Sir  Joshua  during  part  of  this  year  appears  to  have 
been  deprived  of  his  sister's  domestic  attentions,  by  a 
visit  to  Paris.  This  has  been  very  prettily  noticed  by 
Dr.  Johnson,  in  a  letter  to  a  Miss  Flint,  a  very  young 
lady  who  had  translated  his  Strictures  on  Shakspeare 
into  French,  and  was  then  resident  at  that  gay  metrop- 
olis. He  says,  "  How  can  you  prevent  me  from  com- 
plaining of  those  charms  by  which  you  have  gained 
so  much  on  Miss  Reynolds,  that  she  no  longer  re- 
members her  couutry  nor  her  friends?  It  is  but  a  trifle 
f(U*  you  to  praise  us;  it  is  a  trifle  to  spread  our  literary 
fame,  whilst  you  deprive  us  of  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
and  of  conversing  with  Miss  Reynolds.  In  short, 
Madam,  ijoii  must  become  less  amiable,  if  you  wish 
that  we  should  love  you  more." 

It  was  also  some  time  about  this  period,  and  pre- 
vious to  my  becoming  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua,  that  a 
circumstance  took  place,  highly  illustrative  of  his 
character,  and  which  I  shall  now  detail,  knowing  it 
to  be  authentic. 

Sir  Joshua,  as  his  usual  custom,  looked  over  the 
daily  morning  paper  at  his  breakfast  time;  and  on  one 
of  those  perusals,  whilst  reading  an  account  of  the  Old 
Bailey  sessions,  to  his  great  astonishment,  saw  that  a 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  99 

prisoner  hatl  been  tried  and  conderanetl  to  death  for  a 
robbery  committed  on  the  person  of  one  of  his  own 
servants,  a  negro  who  had  been  with  him  for  some 
time.  He  immediately  rung  the  bell  for  the  servants, 
in  order  to  make  his  inquiries,  and  was  soon  convinced 
of  the  truth  of  the  matter  related  in  the  newspaper. 
This  black  man  had  lived  in  his  service  as  footman 
for  several  years,  and  has  been  pourtrayed  in  several 
pictures,  particularly  in  one  of  the  Marquis  of  Granby, 
where  he  holds  the  horse  of.that  General.  Sir  Joshua 
reprimanded  this  black  servant  for  his  conduct,  and 
especially  for  not  having  informed  iiim  of  this  curious 
adventure;  wiien  the  man  said  he  had  concealed  it 
only  to  avoid  the  blame  he  should  have  incurred  had 
he  told  it:  he  then  related  the  following  circumstances 
of  the  business,  sajing,  that  Mrs.  Anna  Williams 
(the  old  blind  lady  who  lived  at  the  house  of  Dr. 
Johnson)  had,  some  time  previous,  dined  at  Sir 
Joshua's  with  Miss  Reynolds ;  that  in  the  evening 
she  went  home  to  Bolt-court,  Fleet-street,  in  a  hack- 
ney-coach, and  that  he  had  been  sent  to  attend  her  to 
her  house.  On  his  return  he  had  met  with  companions 
who  had  detained  him  till  so  late  an  hour,  that  when 
he  came  to  Sir  Joshua's  house,  he  found  the  doors 
were  shut  and  all  the  servants  gone  to  rest.  In  this 
dilemma  he  wandered  in  the  street  till  he  came  to  a 
watch-house,  in  which  he  took  shelter  for  the  remain- 
der of  the  night,  among  the  variety  of  miserable  com- 
panions to  be  found  in  such  places;  and  amidst  this 
assembly  of  the  wretched,  the  black  man  fell  sound 
asleep,  when  a  poor  thief  who  had  been  taken  into 
custody  by  the  constable  of  the  night,  perceiving,  as 
the  man  slept,  that  he  had  a  watch  and  money  in  his 
pocket  (which  was  seen  on  his  thigh,)  he  watched 
his  opportunity  and  stole  the  watch,  and  with  a  pen- 
knife cut  through  the  pocket,  and  so  possessed  himself 
of  the  money.  When  the  Black  awaked  from  his  nap, 
he  soon  discovered  what  had  been  done  to  his  cost, 
and  immediately  gave  the  alarm,  and  a  strict  search 
was  made  through  the  compan}' ;   when  the  various 

o 


100  MEMOIRS  OF 

articles  which  the  Blnck  had  lost  were  found  in  the 
possession  of  the  unfortunate  wretch  who  had  stolen 
them.  He  was  accordiugly  secured,  and  next  morn- 
ing carried  heforc  the  Justice,  and  committed  to  take 
Lis  trial  at  the  Old  Bailey,  (the  Black  being  bound 
over  to  prosecute,)  and,  as  we  have  seen,  was  at  his 
trial  cast  and  condemned  to  death.  Sir  Joshua,  much 
alli^cted  by  this  recital,  immediately  sent  his  principal 
servant,  Ralph  Kirkly,  to  make  all  inquiries  into  the 
vstate  of  the  criminal,  and,  if  necessary,  to  relieve  his 
wants  in  whatever  way  could  be  done.  When  Kirkly 
came  to  the  prison,  lie  Mas  soon  admitted  to  the  cell  of 
the  prisoner,  where  he  beheld  the  most  wretched 
spectacle  that  imagination  can  conceive — a  poor  for- 
lorn criminal,  without  a  friend  on  earth  who  could 
relieve  or  assist  him,  and  reduced  almost  to  a  skele- 
ton by  famine  and  by  filth,  waiting  till  the  dreadful 
morning  should  arrive  when  he  was  to  be  made  an 
end  of  by  a  violent  death.  Sir  Joshua  now  ordered 
fresh  cloathing  to  be  sent  to  him,  and  also  that  the 
black  servant  should  carry  to  him  every  day  a  sufficient 
supply  of  food  from  his  own  table  ;  and  at  that  time 
Mr.  E.  Burke  being  very  luckily  in  oflBce  he  applied 
to  him,  and  by  their  joint  interest  they  got  his  sen- 
tence changed  to  transportation;  when  after  being 
furnished  with  all  necessaries,  he  was  sent  out  of  the 
kingdom. 

When  Goldsmith  first  published  his  "  Deserted 
Village,"  he  dedicated  it  to  his  friend  Sir  Joshua,  in 
which  he  elegantly  observes,  ^'  1  can  have  no  expecta- 
tions, in  an  address  of  this  kind,  either  to  add  to  your 
reputation,  or  to  establish  my  own.  You  can  gain 
nothing  from  my  admiration,  as  I  am  ignorant  of  the 
art  in  which  you  are  said  to  excel ;  and  I  may  lose 
much  by  the  severity  of  your  judgment,  as  few  have 
a  juster  taste  in  poetry  than  you.  Setting  interest, 
therefore,  aside,  to  which  I  never  paid  much  attention, 
I  must  be  indulged,  at  present,  in  following  my  affec- 
tions. 'J  he  only  dedication  I  ever  made  was  to  my 
brother,  because  1  loved  him  better  than  most  other 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  101 

men.  He  is  since  dead.  Permit  rae  to  inscribe  this 
Poem  to  you." 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  year,  Sir  Joshua  was 
much  occupied  in  the  preparation  of  his  second  dis- 
course, which  was  delivered  at  the  rooms  of  tlie 
Academy,  on  the  11th  of  December,  17()9. 

The  general  object  of  this  discourse  was  to  convey 
a  brief  code  of  instructions  for  improvement  in  tlie 
various  arts  whiv.h  the  Academy  was  intended  to 
encourage ;  and  these  hints,  as  it  was  neatly  observed 
at  the  time,  were  oifered  with  the  *•  ingenuous  modes- 
ty of  a  man,  who  by  excellence  becomes  concious  of 
defect,  as  hints  founded  upon  his  own  previous  mis- 
takes which  might  at  least  prevent  industry  from  being 
misapplied." 

Considering  the  study  of  Painting,  in  particular,  as 
divided  into  three  parts,  he  supposed  the  first,  which 
was  merely  that  of  acquiring  a  facility  of  drawing  any 
object,  a  tolerable  readiness  in  the  management  of 
colours,  and  an  acquaintance  witli  the  most  simple  and 
obvious  of  the  rules  of  composition,  to  have  been  al- 
ready passed  through  by  the  student,  to  whom  he  next 
recommended  the  absolute  necessity  of  collecting  sub- 
jects for  expression,  and  of  amassing  a  stock  of  ideas 
capable  of  being  combined  and  varied  agreeable  to 
circumstances. 

This  he  considered  as  forming  the  second  period, 
in  which  the  student  was  to  endeavour  to  acquire  a 
general  knowledge  of  all  that  was  already  known  and 
executed ;  in  which,  no  longer  under  the  tuition  of  any 
particular  master,  he  was  to  consider  himself  solely 
as  the  pupil  of  the  art,  and  thus  to  acquire  and  com- 
bine all  the  perfections  scattered  through  the  works  of 
the  most  celebrated  of  pa.'3t  times,  and  of  the  various 
schools. 

In  this  part  of  the  progress,  though  the  student  was 
to  be  at  liberty  to  regulate  his  taste,  and  to  enlarge 
the  powers  of  his  imagination,  still  was  he  to  consider 
himself  as  restricted  by  certain  rules,  and  so  much  in 
subjection  and  discipline  under  the  art  in  general,  as 


i02,  MEMOIRS  OF 

not  to  be  permitted  to  resign  himself  to  any  particular 
authority,  mueh  less  to  deviate  into  any  track  where 
he  could  perceive  no  antecedent  footsteps. 

Having  gone  through  the  second,  and  arrived  at 
the  last  stage,  he  considered  the  student  as  then 
liberated  from  all  former  authority,  and  to  be  now 
guided  solely  by  judgement ;  being  thus  placed,  if  not 
upon  an  equality,  yet  in  the  same  rank  with  those 
who  had  preceded  him ;  and  even  as  exercising  a  por- 
tion of  sovereignty  over  those  very  rules  by  which  he 
himself  had  been  governed  in  the  former  course  of  his 
studies. 

At  this  period  too,  he  described  him  as  justified  in 
adopting  a  new  mode  of  judgment;  being  no  longer 
bound  to  compare  the  productions  of  art  with  each 
other,  but  to  examine  the  art  itself  by  Nature's  own 
standard,  and  thus  to  correct  its  errors,  and  supply  its 
defects. 

With  a  memory  thus  stored,  and  a  judgment  thus 
directed,  then,  and  not  till  then,  was  the  student  to  try 
the  power  of  imagination,  nay,  even  to  give  it  the 
reins;  for  he  asserted  that  '•  the  man  whose  mind  has 
been  thus  disciplined,  might  be  indulged  in  the  warm- 
est enthusiasm,  and  might  even  venture  to  play  on  the 
borders  of  tlie  wildest  extravagance ;  as  then  the 
habitual  dignity  which  long  converse  with  the  greatest 
minds  has  imparted  to  him,  will  display  itself  in  all 
his  attempts,  and  he  will  stand  among  his  instructors, 
not  as  an  imitator,  but  as  a  rival.''  He  assumed  that 
invention  was  little  more  than  a  new  combination  of 
such  images  as  have  been  already  treasured  up  in  the 
memory,  so  that  he  whose  mind  was  best  stored  with 
images,  would  most  certainly  be  the  most  capable  of 
invention ;  and  thus  that  lie  who  was  best  acquainted 
Avith  the  compositions  of  others,  would  be  the  most 
capable  of  originality. 

Of  course  it  followed,  as  he  premised,  that  such 
artists  as  toil  on  in  the  dull  drudgery  of  copying, 
though  they  might,  indeed,  faithfully  exhibit  the  mi- 
nutest part  of  some  favourite  composition,  would, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  103 

howeverj  never  arrive  at  any  excellence.  This  posi- 
tion, so  much  at  variance  with  the  rules  then  gen- 
erally adopted,  he  explained  by  the  observation,  that 
of  the  best  large  compositions,  a  great  part  was  always 
commonly-place,  which,  though  it  takes  much  time  to 
copy,  could  conduce  but  little  to  improvement.  It  fol- 
lows, of  course,  as  he  observes,  that  imitation  should 
always  be  preceded  by  selection ;  but  still  as  that  re- 
quires no  eflbrt  of  the  mind,  so  would  the  powers  of 
invention  and  composition  become  torpid  and  devoid 
of  energy  from  want  of  exercise,  instead  of  being  kepi, 
as  they  ought  to  be,  in  constant  practice. 

Indeed,  he  confined  the  use  of  copying  solely  to  the 
learning  to  colour;  though,  even  that  branch  of  the  art 
can  never  be  acquired  by  a  servile  copyist:  and  here 
too  he  pointed  out  that  a  slcilful  artist  av  ould  always 
rather  consider  what  the  productions  of  the  ancient 
masters  had  been,  than  what  they  are  now,  when 
changed  by  dirt  and  varnish  :  and  from  lience  he  again 
pointed  out  the  necessity  to  copy  Nature  herself,  in 
comparison  with  those  hues,  the  best  coloured  pictures 
are  but  faint  and  feeble,  and  therefore  most  likely  to 
give  the  youthful  student  ideas  totally  distinct  from 
either  art  or  nature. 

In  addition  to  these  hints,  he  allowed  that  copying 
might  be  so  far  proper,  as  to  make  slight  sketches  of 
the  machinery  and  general  management  of  any  admired 
picture,  in  order  to  preserve  these  for  future  regula- 
tions of  style,  so  that  the  student,  instead  of  copying 
the  touches  of  the  great  masters,  would  only  copy 
their  conceptions. 

Yet  in  these  general  observations,  it  was  not  his  in- 
tention to  do  away  models  in  painting :  but  instead  of 
advising  the  student  to  paint  a  copy,  he  recommended 
to  him  to  paint  a  companion;  so  that  by  comparing 
the  two  carefully  together,  he  might  best  see  his  own 
defects,  and  be  thereby  taught  to  guard  against  them. 

In  this  most  important  part  of  the  art,  he  recom- 
mended Lodovico  Caracchi  as  the  best  model  for 
style;  and  this  he  accompanied  by  some  most  judi- 


lOl!  MEMOIRS  OF 

cious  remarks,  but  too  long  for  insertion  here :  and  his 
concluding  observations  are  higlily  worthy  the  atten- 
tion of  all  students,  showing  them  that  to  excel,  they 
must  always  consider  that  "  Kxcellence  is  never 
granted  to  man  but  as  the  reward  of  JLabour/*' 

In  the  year  1/70  died  a  former  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's 
of  the  name  of  Dusign.  His  father  was  a  colonel  in 
the  army,  and  his  mother  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 
Kyndford,  a  Scottish  peer.  After  quitting  Sir  Joshua, 
he  [)raciised,  a  few  years,  at  Bath,  where  his  family 
resided ;  but  the  desire  of  improving  himself  in  his 
art  induced  him  to  proceed  to  Rome,  and  there  he 
soon  after  died  of  a  consumption.  About  this  time, 
also,  a  little  circumstance  took  place  which,  from  its 
connection  with  the  art,  deserves  a  record  here. 

Most  persons  remember  the  lines  by  Pope  which 
begin  thus : 

"  Come  gentle  air!  tlr  ^olian  shepherd  said, 
"\>'l)ile  Procris  panted  in  the  secret  shade." 

These  verses,  it  is  well  known,  Pope  sent  to  Miss 
Martha  Blount,  accompanied  with  a  fan,  on  which  he 
had  painted  the  story  of  Cephalus  and  Procris,  from 
a  design  of  his  own  invention,  with  the  motto  "  Aura 

After  the  death  of  Miss  Blount,  this  fan,  w  ith  other 
effects,  was  sold  by  public  auction,  and  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  sent  a  person  to  bid  for  it,  as  far  as  thirty 
guineas ;  but  the  man  who  was  intrusted  with  the 
commission  mistook  the  mark  in  the  catalogue,  and 
thought  it  could  mean  no  more  than  thirty  shillings, 
as  that  sum  seemed  a  very  sufficient  price  for  a  fan. 
As  it  sold,  however,  for  about  two  pounds,  he  lost  the 
purchase ;  but  luckily,  it  was  bought  by  a  dealer  in 
toys,  and  Sir  Joshua  got  it  by  giving  him  a  reasona- 
ble profit  on  his  bargain.  The  fan  was  afterwards 
stolen  from  him. 

Sir  Joshua's  opinion  of  the  degree  of  skill  with 
which  it  was  painted,  being  asked ;  he  replied,  that  it 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  10.1 

was  such  as  might  have  been  expected  from  one  \vho 
painted  for  his  amusement  alone ;  like  the  performance 
of  a  child.  This  must  always  be  the  ease  when  the  work 
is  taken  up  only  from  idleness,  and  laid  aside  when  it 
ceases  to  amuse  any  longer.  But  those,  he  added, 
who  are  determined  to  excel,  must  go  to  their  work 
whether  willing  or  unwilling,  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  and  will  find  it  to  be  no  play,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, very  hard  labour. 

This  was  said  to  his  pupils,  and  in  this  mode  only 
it  was  that  he  ever  gave  any  instruction  to  them,  wlien 
accident  produced  an  opportunity  to  give  it  force. 

Sir  Joshua's  ch)se  attention  to  his  profession  re- 
quired a  certain  portion  of  relaxation  and  social 
intercourse  with  his  friends ;  and  about  the  year  177t)> 
he,  as  stated  by  Mr.  Cumberland,  was  one  of  a  very 
pleasant  society,  which,  without  having  the  name  of  a 
club,  was  accustomed  to  dine  together,  on  stated  days^ 
at  the  British  Cofl'ee  House. 

This  society  was  composed  of  men  of  the  first  em- 
inence for  their  talents,  and  as  there  was  no  exclu- 
sion, in  the  system,  of  any  members  friend  or  friends, 
their  parties  were  continually  enlivened  by  the  intro- 
duction of  new  guests,  who,  of  course,  furnished  new 
sources  for  conversation,  from  which  politics  and  party 
seemed,  by  general  consent,  decidedly  proscribed. 

Such  a  society  might,  no  doubt,  have  been  highly 
agreeable ;  but  its  description,  thus  strongly  marked 
by  Mr.  Cumberland,  seems  rather  drawn  up  in  con- 
tradiction to  the  Literary  Club,  of  which  he  was  not  a 
member. 

This  society  at  the  British  Coffee  House  must, 
however,  with  the  exception  of  Johnson's  conversa- 
tion, have  made  him  amends  for  any  exclusion  from 
the  other;  for  here  were  Foote,  Fitzherbert,  Garriek, 
Macpherson,  Doctors  Carlisle,  Robinson,  and  Beat- 
tie,  Caleb  Whiteford,  and  "  though  last,  not  least,-' 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  introduced  Goldsmith  as  a 
member,  immediately  previous  to  the  representation 
eft'  his  comedy  of  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer." 


100  MEMOIRS  OF 

It  was  about  this  time,  too,  that  the  so  often  told 
circumstance  of  the  Epitaphs  took  place.  The  occur- 
rences whicli  led  to  this  display  of  witticism,  have  been 
variously  detailed.  I  shall,  therefore,  insert  Mr. 
Cumberland's  account  of  it,  as  it  contains  some  par- 
ticulars not  otherwise  generally  known. 

He  says,  that  it  was  on  a  proposal  started  by  Ed- 
mund Burke,  that  a  party  of  friends  who  had  dined 
together  at  Sir  Joshua's,  and  at  his  house,  should  meet 
at  the  St.  James's  Coftee  House,  which  accordingly 
took  place,  and  was  occasionally  repeated  with  much 
festivity  and  good  fellowship.  Dr.  Barnard,  Dean  of 
Derry,  Dr.  Douglas,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Salisbury, 
Johnson,  Garrick,  Sir  Joshua,  Goldsmith,  Edmund 
and  Richard  Burke,  Hickey,  an  attorney,  an  Irish- 
man, and  a  friend  of  the  Burkes,  commemorated  by 
Goldsmith,  and  two  or  three  others,  constituted  the 
party. 

It  was  at  one  of  these  meetings  that  the  idea  was 
suggested  of  extempore  Epitaphs  upon  the  parties 
present;  pens  and  ink  were  called  for,  and  Garrick, 
ofif  hand,  with  a  good  deal  of  humour,  wrote  the  Epi- 
taph upon  poor  Goldsmith,  who  was  the  first  in  jest, 
as  he  proved  in  reality,  that  was  committed  to  the 
grave. 

The  Dean  also  gave  him  an  epitaph,  and  Sir 
Joshua  illuminated  the  Dean's  verses  with  a  sketch  of 
his  bust  in  pen  and  ink,  which  Mr.  C.  states  to  have 
been  inimitably  caricatured ;  but  this  does  not  appear 
to  me  like  an  act  of  Sir  Joshua's,  nor  did  I  ever  hear 
it  mentioned  by  any  other  author. 

These  circumstances  were  of  course  suflRcient  to 
prompt  Goldsmith  to  his  well  known  poem  of  ^'  Re- 
taliation," which,  however,  was  written  with  such 
good  temper,  as  to  shew  that  he  was  fully  convinced 
of  the  pleasantries  of  his  friends  having  been  solely 
produced  by  the  harmless  mirth  of  the  moment. 

It  is  probable  that  whoever  reads  this  Memoir, 
must  have  already  seen  that  celebrated  poem  i  yet 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  107 

still  his  delineation  of  Sir  Joshua  is  too  accurate  to 
be  here  omitted. 

"  Here  Reynolds  is  laid;  and  to  tell  you  my  mind, 

He  has  not  left  a  better  or  wiser  behind; 

His  pencil  was  striking,  resistless,  and  grand, 

His  manners  were  gentle,  complying,  and  bland  ; 

Still  born  to  improve  us  in  every  part, 

His  pencil  our  faces,  his  manners  our  heart: 

To  coxcombs  averse,  yet  most  civilly  staring, 

When  they  judged  without  skill,  he  was  still  hard  of  hearing; 

When  they  talked  of  their  Raffaelles,  Corregios,  and  stuff, 

He  shifted  his  trumpet,  and  only  took  snuff!" 

In  the  poetical  epistle  addressed  to  Goldsinith,  by 
Cumberland,  as  a  supplement  to  his  Poem,  are  the 
following  lines : 

"  Pour  forth  to  Reynolds  without  stint, 
Rich  Burgundy,  of  ruby  tint; 
If  e'er  his  colours  chance  to  fade. 
This  brilliant  hue  shall  come  in  aid  ; 
With  ruddy  lights  refresh  the  faces, 
And  warm  the  bosoms  of  the  Graces." 

These  lines  certainly  savour  much  of  their  author. 

When  first  the  cross  readings,  ship  news,  and  mis- 
takes of  the  press,  appeared  in  the  newspapers  of  the 
day,  they  attracted  universal  attention,  and  the  lucky 
invention  so  much  delighted  Dr.  Goldsmith,  that  he 
declared,  in  the  heat  of  his  admiration  of  them,  that  it 
would  give  him  more  pleasure  to  have  been  the  author, 
than  of  all  the  works  he  had  ever  published  of  his  own. 

Tliey  were  written  by  the  late  Caleb  Whiteford, 
who  was  one  of  the  members  when  the  epitaphs  were 
written.  On  that  occasion,  Whiteford  wrote  two  on 
Goldsmith  and  Cumberland,  with  which  they  were 
both  so  displeased,  that  he  did  not  attend  at  the  next 
meeting,  but  addressed  the  following  apology  to  Sir 
Joshua. 

"  Admire  not,  dear  Knight! 
That  I  keep  out  of  sight, 
P 


108  MExMOIRS  OF 

Consider  what  perils  await  him, 

"NVho  with  ill  season'd  jokes 

Indiscreetly  provokes 
The  Genus  irrltabile  Vatuvi. 

I  felt  when  these  swains 
Rehears'd  their  sweet  strains, 

That  mine  had  too  much  lemon  juice; 
And  strove  to  conceal, 
For  the  general  weal, 

What  at  last  I  was  forc'd  to  produce. 

After  such  panegyric 
The  least  thing  satiric 

Must  throw  both  the  Bards  in  the  twitters; 
'Twas  impossible  they, 
After  drinking  Tokay, 

Could  relish  a  bumper  of  bitters. 

Do  talk  to  each  bard, 

Beg  they  won't  be  too  hard, 

But  be  merciful  as  thej  are  stout; 
I  rely  on  your  skill, 
Say  just  what  you  will, 

And  as  vou  brought  me  in,  bring  me  out! 

To  the  company  too, 
Some  apology's  due, 

I  know  you  can  do  it  with  ease ;  , 

Be  ityour's,  Sir,  to  place. 
In  ihe  best  light,  my  case, 

And  give  it  what  colour  you  please. 

For  those  brats  of  my  brain, 
Which  have  caused  so  much  pain, 

Henceforth  I  renounce  and  disown  'em: 
And  still  keep  in  sight, 
When  I  epitaphs  write, 

De  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum.^^ 

With  this  whimsical  request  it  is  said  Sir  Joshua 
complied,  and  by  his  friendly  exertions  succeeded  in 
restoring  that  htirmony  which  had  thus  been  interrupt- 
ed by  the  irriUbility  of  those  who  were  annoyed  by 
Caleb's  briskness. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.       >  |09 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  enter  into  the  particulars 
of  the  well  known  anecdote  of  Dr.  Bernard,  already 
mentioned  as  a  member  of  this  society;  when  having 
advanced  in  conversation  with  Sir  Joshua  and  Dr. 
Johnson,  that  he  thought  no  man  could  improve  who 
was  past  the  age  of  forty-five,  the  latter  immediately 
turned  round  to  the  Dean  and  observed,  '•  that  he  (the 
Dean)  was  an  instance  to  the  contrary ;  for  there  was 
great  room  for  improvement  in  him,  and  he  wished 
that  he  would  set  about  it." 

The  Dean  took  no  notice  of  this  hint  at  the  time, 
but  the  next  day  sent  a  very  elegant  poetic  epistle, 
addressed  to  "  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  and  Co.  ;*'  and 
as  part  of  those  stanzas  is  highly  descriptive  of  Sir 
Joshua,  I  shall  not  only  insert  that  passage,  but  the 
whole  in  order  to  make  it  more  intelligible  and  im- 
pressive. 

"  I  lately  thought  no  man  alive, 
Could  e'er  improve  past  fortj-five, 

And  ventur'd  to  assert  it; 
The  observation  was  not  new, 
But  seemed  to  me  so  just  and  true, 

That  none  could  controvert  it. 

No,  Sir!  says  Johnson,  'tis  not  so, 
That's  your  mistake,  and  I  can  shew 

An  instance  if  you  doubt  it; 
You,  Sir,  who  are  near  forty -eight, 
May  much  improve,  'tis  not  too  late, 

I  wish  you'd  set  about  it. 

Eucourag'd  thus  to  mend  my  faults, 
I  turn'd  his  counsel  in  my  thoughts, 

Which  way  I  should  apply  it; 
Learning  and  wit  seemed  past  my  reach. 
For  who  can  learn,  when  none  will  teach, 

And  wit  I  could  not  buy  it. 

Then  come,  my  friends,  and  try  your  skillj 
You  can  inform  me  if  you  will, 

(My  books  are  at  a  distance;) 
With  you  I'll  live  and  learn,  and  then. 
Instead  of  books,  1  shall  read  men, 
So  lend  me  your  assistance. 


110  MEMOIRS  OP 

Dear  Knight  ofPlympton,  tell  me  hovr 
To  suffer  with  unruflied  brow, 

Aud  smile  serene  like  tiiine; 
The  jest  uncouth,  or  truth  severe, 
To  such  I'll  turn  my  deafest  ear. 

And  calmly  drink  my  wine. 

Thou  say'st  not  only  skill  is  gain'd, 
But  genius  too  may  be  attain'd, 

By  studious  imitation; 
Thy  temper  mild,  thy  genius  fine, 
I'll  copy  till  I  make  them  mine 

By  constant  application. 

Thy  art  of  pleasing,  teach  me,  Garrick  ! 
Thou  who  reverest  odes  Pindarick,* 

A  second  time  read  o'er; 
Oh  could  we  read  the  backwards  too, 
Last  thirty  years  thou  shouldst  review, 
And  charm  us  thirty  more. 

If  I  have  thoughts,  and  can't  express  them, 
Gibbon  shall  teach  me  how  to  dress  them, 

In  terms  select  and  terse  ; 
Jones  teach  me  modesty  and  Greek, 
Smith  how  to  think,  Burke  how  to  speak, 

And  Beau  clerk  to  converse. 

Let  Johnson  teach  me  how  to  place, 
In  fairest  light,  each  borrow'd  grace. 

From  him  I'll  learn  to  write; 
Copy  his  clear,  familiar  style, 
And  from  the  roughness  of  his  file 

Grow  like  himself — polite." 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  excellent  society,  Sir  Joshua 
still  attended  sedulously  to  his  profession ;  and  in  this 
year  (1/70,)  his  price  for  a  head  was  raised  to  thirty- 
five  guineas :  his  own  portrait  was  also  painted  about 
this  time  by  ZofFanii  in  a  large  picture,  in  whicli 
were  represented  all  the  first  members  of  the  Roy- 
al  Academy,    and   now   in   the   King's    collection. 

•  Garrick  had  said  that  Cumberland's  Odes  might  be  read 
either  backwards  or  forwards,  with  equal  beauty  and  precision. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  m 

This  group  of  portraits  was  afterwards  engraved 
by  Earlora. 

On  the  14th  of  December  he  produced  his  third 
discourse,  whose  leading  objects  were  a  delineation  of 
the  great  and  essential  principles  of  the  grand  style, 
an  investigation  of  beauty,  and  a  series  of  arguments 
to  prove  that  the  genuine  habits  of  nature  are  totally 
distinct  from  those  of  fashion. 

He  commenced  this  discourse  by  adverting  to  a 
great  difficulty  which  operated  against  him  in  the 
arrangement  of  each  discourse  ;  that  was  the  circum- 
stance of  his  being  obliged  to  direct  his  advice  to  an 
assembly  composed  of  so  many  students  of  different 
ages,  and  of  diiferent  degrees  of  advancement.  In 
speaking  afterwards  of  the  close  attention  to  be  paid 
to  nature,  he  still  warned  the  student  that  even  nature 
herself  is  not  to  be  too  closely  copied ;  and  he  added, 
that  there  are  excellencies  in  the  art  of  painting  be- 
yond what  is  commonly  called  the  imitation  of  nature  ; 
so  that  a  mere  copier  of  nature  can  never  produce  any 
thing  great,  can  never  raise  and  enlarge  the  concep- 
tions, nor  warm  the  heart  of  the  spectator. 

He  therefore  recommended  to  the  genuine  painter 
to  have  more  extensive  ol)jects  in  view,  and  instead  jof 
endeavouring  to  amuse  mankind  with  the  minute 
neatness  of  his  imitations,  rather  to  endeavour  to  im- 
prove them  by  the  grandeur  of  his  ideas;  and  thus  to 
strive  for  fame  by  captivating  the  imagination,  instead 
of  seeking  praise  by  the  silly  attempt  at  deceiving  the 
senses.  The  correctness  of  this  principle  he  consider- 
ed as  so  absolute  in  itself,  as  not  to  require  tlie  aid  of 
novelty  to  recommend  it,  and  he  shewed  that  it  was 
from  the  earliest  times  enforced  by  the  poets,  orators, 
and  rhetoricians  of  antiquity,  as  well  as  supported  by 
the  general  opinion  of  the  enlightened  part  of  man- 
kind, giving,  at  the  same  time,  appropriate  quotations 
from  the  classic  authorities. 

To  this  he  added,  that  "  the  moderns  are  not  less 
convinced  than  the  ancients  of  this  superior  power  (of 
the  ideal  beauty)  existing  in  the  art;  nor  less  sensible 


^m. 


il2  MEMOIRS  OF 

of  its  eflPecls.  Every  language  has  adopted  terms  ex- 
pressive of  this  excellence.  The  gusto  grande  of  the 
Italians,  the  beau  ideal  of  the  French,  and  the  great 
style,  genius,  and  taste,  among  the  English,  are  but 
different  appellations  of  the  same  tiling.  It  is  this  in- 
tellectual dignity,  they  say,  that  ennobles  the  painter's 
art;  that  lays  the  line  between  him  and  the  mere  me- 
chanic; and  produces  those  great  effects  in  an  instant, 
which  eloquence  and  poetry,  by  slow  and  repeated 
efforts,  are  scarcely  able  to  attain." 

He  confessed,  indeed,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  define  in 
what  this  great  style  consists ;  nor  to  describe,  by 
words,  the  proper  means  of  acquiring  it,  even  if  the 
mind  of  the  student  should  be  highly  capable  of  such 
an  acquisition  ;  for  if  taste  or  genius  were  to  be  taught 
by  rules,  then  they  would  no  longer  be  taste  or  genius. 
Still,  although  there  neither  are,  nor  can  be,  any  pre- 
cise invariable  rules  for  the  exercise  or  the  acquisition 
of  these  great  qualities,  yet,  as  he  expressed  himself, 
they  always  operate  in  proportion  to  our  attention  in 
observing  the  works  of  nature,  to  our  skill  in  selecting, 
and  to  our  care  in  digesting,  methodizing,  and  com- 
paring our  observations. 

He  therefore  recommended  a  long  and  strict  ex- 
amination both  of  the  beauties  and  defects  of  nature, 
by  which  means  the  student  is  enabled  to  acquire  a 
just  idea  of  her  beautiful  forms,  and  to  correct  nature 
by  herself,  her  imperfect  state  by  her  more  perfect. 

The  eye  being  thus  enabled  to  distinguish  the 
beauties  and  deficiencies,  as  well  as  the  deformities, 
the  judgment  is  then  enabled,  as  he  observed,  to  make 
out  an  abstract  idea  of  the  general  forms  of  things, 
more  perfect  than  any  one  original,  "  and  wliat  may 
seem  a  paradox,  the  student  learns  to  design  naturally 
by  drawing  his  figures  unlike  to  any  one  object.*' 

This  then,  he  described  to  be  "  Ideal  Beauty,"  the 
idea  of  the  perfect  state  of  nature,  that  great  leading 
principle  by  which  works  of  genius  are  conducted ;  an 
idea  which  has  acquired,  and  which  seems  to  have  a 
riglit  to  the  epithet  of  divine,  "  as  it  may  be  said  to 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  113 

preside  like  a  supreme  judge  over  all  the  productions 
of  nature,  appearing  to  be  possessed  of  the  will  and 
intention  of  the  Creator,  as  far  as  they  regard  the 
external  form  of  living  beings. '^  He  added,  that  when 
a  man  once  possesses  this  idea  in  its  perfection,  there 
is  no  danger  but  that  he  will  be  sufficiently  warmed  by 
it  himself^  and  also  be  enabled  to  warm  and  ravish 
every  one  else. 

With  respect  to  fashion,  he  laid  it  down  as  a  prin- 
ciple, that  however  the  meclianie  and  ornamental 
arts  may  be  obliged,  or  even  permitted,  to  sacrifice  to 
her,  yet  she  must  be  entirely  excluded  from  any 
control  over,  the  art  of  painting:  wherefore  the  painter 
must  never  mistake  this  capricious  changeling  for  tlie 
genuine  offspring  of  nature,  but  must  divest  himself  of 
all  prejudices  in  favour  of  liis  age  and  country ;  and 
must  even  disregard  all  local  and  temporary  orna- 
ments, looking  only  on  those  general  habits  which  are 
every  where  and  always  the  same,  addressing  his 
works  to  the  people  of  every  age  and  every  country, 
and  even  calling  upon  posterity  to  be  his  spectators. 

Here  he  took  occasion  to  reprobate  the  ridiculous 
frippery  of  the  style  of  French  painting  in  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV.  but  acknowledged,  that  to  avoid  the 
errors  of  that  school,  and  to  retain  the  true  simplicity 
of  nature,  is  still  a  task  more  difficult  than  may  appear 
at  first  sight;  as  the  prejudices  in  favour  of  the  fashions 
and  customs  to  which  we  have  been  used,  and  whieli 
are  justly  called  a  second  nature,  make  it  often  diffi- 
cult  to  distinguish  that  which  is  natural  from  that 
which  is  the  result  of  education.  Our  only  guides  and 
instructors,  then,  he  asserted,  are  to  be  found  among 
the  ancients ;  by  a  careful  study  of  whose  works,  the 
artist  and  the  man  of  taste  will  be  enabled  to  form  a 
just  conception  of  the  real  simplicity  of  nature :  to 
which  he  added,  *^  they  will  suggest  many  observa- 
tions which  would  probably  escape  you,  if  your  study 
were  confined  to  nature  alone,  and  indeed,  I  cannot 
help  suspecting,  that  in  this  instance  the  ancients  had 
tin  easier  task  than  the  moderns.  They  had,  probably, 


114  MEMOIRS  OF 

little  or  nothing  to  unlearn,  as  tlieir  manners  were 
nearly  approaching  to  this  desirable  simplicity;  while 
the  modern  artist,  before  iie  can  see  the  truth  of  things, 
is  obliged  to  remove  a  veil,  with  wliicli  the  fashion  of 
the  times  has  thought  proper  to  cover  her." 

Had  Sir  Joshua,  however,  happily  lived  until  the 
present  times,  he  would  perhaps  have  omitted  the 
latter  observation! 

After  some  very  judicious  observations  on  the 
imitators  of  nature  in  her  loAvest  forms,  and  justly 
reprobating  them  in  some  instances,  he  concluded  his 
admirable  discourse,  by  warning  his  hearers  not  to 
consider  him  as  countenancing  a  careless  or  undeter- 
mined manner  of  painting  ;  adding,  that  although  the 
painter  is  certainly  to  overlook  the  accidental  dis- 
criminations of  nature,  yet  he  is  still  to  exhibit 
distinctly  and  Avith  precision,  the  general  forms  of 
things ;  wherefore  a  firm  and  determined  outline  is  one 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  great  style  in  painting :  to 
which  he  subjoined  the  important  truism,  that  he  who 
possesses  the  knowledge  of  the  exact  form  which 
every  part  of  nature  ought  to  have,  will  be  fond  of 
expressing  that  knowledge  with  correctness  and  Jpre- 
cision  in  all  his  works. 

It  was  in  the  year  1771  >  that  I  was  first  placed  un- 
der the  tuition  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  to  whom  I 
was  introduced,  and  strongly  recommended  by  my 
good  and  much  respected  friend  Dr.  John  Mudge.  If 
I  might  now  be  suffered  to  say  a  little  of  myself,  I 
would  declare  that  I  feel  it  next  to  impossible  to  ex- 
press the  pleasure  I  received  in  breathing,  if  it  may 
be  so  said,  in  an  atmosphere  of  art;  having  until  this 
period  been  entirely  debarred,  not  only  from  the  prac- 
tice of  the  art  itself,  but  even  from  the  sight  of  pic- 
tures of  any  excellence,  as  the  county  of  Denvon  at 
that  time  did  not  abound  with  specimens,  and  even 
those  few  which  are  scattered  about  that  country  I 
Lad  no  opportunity  of  ever  seeing;  and  as  from  the 
earliest  period  of  my  being  able  to  make  any  obser- 
vation., I  had  conceived  him  to  be  the  greatest  paiutef 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  115 

that  ever  lived,  it  may  be  conjectured  what  I  felt  when 
I  found  myself  iu  his  liouse  as  his  scholar  :  but  as  the 
admiration  and  respect  which  I  now  honestly  confess 
I  always  felt  for  him,  render  me  liable  to  be  consider- 
ed as  a  partial  judge  of  liis  various  merits,  tliis  con- 
sideration inclines  me  to  give  tlie  authorities  of  otiiers, 
in  preference  to  my  own,  whenever  it  will  serve  my 
purpose — of  such  as  knew  him  well,  and  may  be  con- 
sidered as  less  prejudiced  encomiasts. 

As  one  prominent  cause  of  Sir  Joshua's  cultivating 
the  very  best  society,  and  which  almost  may  be  said 
to  have  been  domesticated  with  him,  Mr.  Malone  is 
certainly  correct  in  stating,  that  iinding  how  little 
time  he  could  spare  from  his  profession,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  acquiring,  and  adding  to  his  knowledge  from 
books,  he  very  early  and  wisely  resolved  to  partake, 
as  much  as  possible,  the  society  of  all  the  ingenious 
and  learned  men  of  his  own  time,  iu  consequence  of 
which,  and  his  unassuming  and  gentle  manner,  and 
refined  habits,  his  table,  for  above  thirty  years,  exhib- 
ited an  assemblage  of  all  the  talents  of  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland ;  there  being,  during  that  period,  scarce  a 
person  in  the  three  kingdoms  distinguished  for  his 
attainments  in  literature  or  the  arts,  or  for  his  exer- 
tions at  the  bar,  in  the  senate,  or  the  field,  who  was 
not  occasionally  found  there. 

In  addition  to  this,  it  has  been  stated  by  the  author 
of  "  Testimonies,'*  to  his  genius,  that  the  circle  of  his 
acquaintance,  owing  to  the  celebrity  of  his  name,  was 
very  extended  ;  that  many  illustrious  foreigners  were 
on  a  footing  of  personal  intimacy  with  him;  and  that 
he  was  resorted  to  by  persons  of  tlie  highest  quality, 
who  revered  his  genius  as  much  as  tliey  respected  the 
excellence  of  his  private  character.  Theucc,  his  house 
was  long  the  resort  of  excellence  of  every  kind,  of  the 
learned,  the  elegant,  tlie  polite,  in  short  all  that  were 
CDiinent  for  worth,  or  distinguished  by  genius.  ^'  From 
such  connections,  his  mind,  rich  In  its  own  store,  re- 
ceived an  accession  of  most  extensive  knowledge,  and 


116  MEMOIRS  OF 

an  inexhaustible  treasure  for  conversation.  He  was 
rich  in  observation,  anecdote  and  intelligence." 

To  return  to  Mr.  Malone's  account  of  him,  from 
Avhich  I  trust  my  readers  will  excuse  the  transcrip- 
tion of  a  note,  I  shall  here  insert  his  observation,  that 
the  "  JS^octes  Coenceque  Diiem  enjoyed  at  his  table, 
(as  Mr.  Boswell  in  the  dedication  prefixed  to  his  Life 
of  Johnson,  has  described  it,)  will  be  long  remember- 
ed by  those  who  had  the  happiness  to  partake  of 
them ;  but  the  remembrance  must  always  be  accom- 
panied with  regret,  when  it  is  considered,  that  the 
death  of  their  amiable  and  illustrious  host  has  left  a 
chasm  in  society,  and  that  no  such  common  centre  of 
union  for  the  accomplished  and  the  learned  now 
exists,  or  is  likely  soon  to  exist,  in  London." 

The  observation  above  alluded  to,  of  Mr.  Bos- 
welFs,  is  to  the  following  purport.  ^^  If  there  be  a 
pleasure  in  celebrating  the  distinguished  merit  of  a 
contemporary,  mixed  with  a  certain  degree  of  vanity, 
not  altogether  inexcusable,  in  appearing  fully  sensi- 
ble of  it,  where  can  I  find  one,  in  complimenting 
whom  I  can  with  more  general  approbation  gratify 
those  feelings?  Your  excellence,  not  only  in  the  art 
over  which  you  have  long  presided  with  unrivalled 
fame,  but  also  in  philosophy  and  elegant  literature,  is 
well  known  to  the  present,  and  will  continue  to  be  the 
admiration  of  future  ages.  Your  equal  and  placid 
temper,  your  variety  of  conversation,  your  true  polite- 
ness, by  which  you  are  so  amiable  in  private  society, 
and  that  enlarged  hospitality  which  has  long  made 
your  house  a  common  centre  of  union  for  the  great, 
the  accomplished,  the  learned,  and  the  ingenious ;  all 
these  qualities,  I  can,  in  perfect  confidence  of  not  being 
accused  of  flattery,  ascribe  to  you." 

This  warm  and  friendly  tribute  to  the  excellence  of 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  written  in  1791,  a  very 
short  period  before _  his  lamented  death  ;  but  I  trust 
I  shall  not  be  accused  of  premature  anachronism  by 
its  insertion  in  this  place;,  to  which  it  so  particularly 
refers. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  U*' 

To  such  testimonies  as  those  my  own  suflVa2;e  is 
unnecessary :  I  shall  therefore  only  observe,  that, 
among  the  many  advantages  which  were  to  i)e  gained 
in  the  house  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  one  of  the  most 
considerable  certainly  was,  the  opportunity  of  im. 
provement  from  the  familiar  intercourse  which  he  thus 
perpetually  kept  up  with  the  most  eminent  men  of  his 
time  for  genius  and  learning. 

A  few  anecdotes  of  some  of  those  persons  I  liavo 
collected,  but  have  related  only  such  as  are  new  and 
not  to  be  found  in  any  otiier  writer;  for  of  the  illustri» 
ous  dead  even  the  slightest  memorials  are  ever  re- 
ceived with  a  degree  of  satisfaction  :  and  though  but 
trifles  in  themselves,  yet  as  they  relate  to  distinguish- 
ed characters,  we  consider  them  as  a  kind  of  relics, 
and  attend  to  each  little  circumstance  with  the  same 
religious  enthusiasm  as  the  devotee  follows  the  foot- 
steps of  his  saint.  They  help  to  transport  the  mind 
back  to  the  very  period  in  which  the  occurrences  were 
passing,  and  for  a  time  we  seem  to  be  existing  in  a 
former  age.  Therefore,  without  further  apology,  I 
shall  give  those  Avhich  at  this  time  occur  to  my  recol- 
lection. 

Dr.  Johnson  being  in  company  with  Sir  Josliua 
and  his  sister,  Miss  Reynolds,  and  the  conversation 
turning  on  morality;  Sir  Joshua  said,  he  did  not 
think  there  was  in  the  world  any  man  completely 
wicked. 

Johnson  answered  "  1  do  not  know  what  you  mean 
by  completely  wicked." 

"  I  mean,"  returned  Sir  Joshua,  "  a  man  lost  to 
all  sense  of  shame."  Dr.  Johnson  replied,  that,  '•  to 
be  completely  wicked  a  man  must  be  also  lost  to  all 
sense  of  conscience." 

Sir  Joshua  said,  he  thought  it  was  exactly  the  same^ 
he  could  see  uo  difference. 

^'  What!"  said  Johnson,  "  can  you  see  no  differ- 
ence? I  am  ashamed  to  hear  you  or  any  body  utter 
such  nonsense;  when  the  one  relates  to  men  only,  the 
other  to  God!" 


118  MEMOIRS  OF 

Miss  Reynolds  tlicn  observed,  that  when  sliame 
was  lost,  conscience  was  nearly  gone. 

Johnson  agreed  that  her  conclusion  was  very  just. 

Dr.  Johnson  was  displeased  if  he  supposed  himself 
at  any  time  made  the  object  of  idle  curiosity.  When 
Miss  lleynolds  once  desired  him  to  dine  at  Sir 
Joshua's,  on  a  day  fixed  upon  by  herself,  he  readily 
accepted  the  invitation;  yet  having  doubts  as  to  the 
importance  of  her  companions,  or  of  her  reasons  for 
inviting  him,  he  added,  at  the  same  time,  '^  But  I  will 
not  be  made  a  show  of.'' 

James  Mac  Ardell,  the  mezzotinto  engraver,  having 
taken  a  very  good  print  from  the  portrait  of  Rubens, 
came  with  it  one  morning  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  to 
inquire  if  he  could  inform  him  particularly  of  the  many 
titles  to  which  Rubens  had  a  right,  in  order  to  inscribe 
them  properly  under  his  print;  saying,  he  believed 
that  Rubens  had  been  knighted  by  the  kings  of 
France,  Spain  and  England ;  was  secretary  of  state 
in  Flanders,  and  to  the  privy  council  in  Spain;  and 
had  been  employed  in  a  ministerial  capacity  from  the 
court  of  Madrid  to  the  court  of  London,  to  negociate 
a  treaty  of  peace  between  the  two  crowns,  and  that  he 
was  also  a  magistrate  of  Antwerp,  &c. 

Dr.  Johnson  happened  to  be  in  the  room  with  Sir 
Joshua  at  the  time,  and  understanding  Mac  Ardell's 
inquiry,  interfered  rather  abruptly,  saying,  "  Pooh  ! 
pooh!  put  his  name  alone  under  the  print,  Peter  Paul 
Rubens:  that  is  full  sufficient  and  more  than  all  the 
rest.-'' 

This  advice  of  the  Doctor's  \yas  accordingly  fol- 
lowed. 

At  the  time  that  Miss  Linley  was  in  the  highest 
esteem  as  a  public  singer.  Dr.  Johnson  came  in  the 
evening  to  drink  tea  with  Miss  Reynolds,  and  when 
he  entered  the  room,  she  said  to  him,  ^*  See,  Dr.  John^ 
son,  what  a  preference  I  give  to  your  company,  for  I 
had  an  olfer  of  a  place  in  a  box  at  the  Oratorio,  to  hear 
Miss  Linley :  but  I  would  rather  sit  with  you  tha.n 
hear  Miss  Linley  sing."  ^^  And  I,  Madam,"  replied 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  Hg 

Johnson,  "  would  rather  sit  with  you  than  sit  upon  a 
throne." 

The  Doctor  would  not  be  surpassed  even  in  a 
trifling  compliment. 

Several  ladies  being  in  company  with  Dr.  Johnson, 
it  was  remarked  by  one  of  them,  that  a  learned  woman 
was  by  no  means  a  rare  character  in  the  present  age : 
when  Johnson  replied,  "^  1  have  known  a  great  many 
ladies  who  knew  Latin,  but  very  few  who  know 
English." 

A  lady  observed,  that  women  surpassed  men  in 
epistolary  correspondence.  Johnson  said,  ''  I  do  not 
know  that."  "  At  least,"  said  the  lady,  "  they  are 
most  pleasing  when  they  are  in  conversation." — "  No, 
Madam,"  returned  Johnson,  *"■  I  think  they  are  most 
pleasing  when  they  hold  their  tongues." 

A  friend  of  Dr.  Johnson's,  in  conversation  with 
him,  was  lamenting  the  disagreeable  situation  in 
which  those  persons  stood  who  were  eminent  for  their 
witticisms,  as  they  were  perpetually  expected  to  be 
saying  good  things — that  it  was  a  heavy  tax  on 
them. 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  said  Johnson,  "  a  very  heavy  tax 
on  them :  a  tax  which  no  man  can  pay  who  does  not 
steal." 

A  prosing  dull  companion  was  making  a  long  har- 
angue to  Dr.  Johnson  upon  the  Piinick  war,  in  which 
he  gave  nothing  either  new  or  entertaining,  Johnson, 
afterwards,  speaking  of  the  circumstance  to  a  friend, 
said,  "  Sir  I  soon  withdrew  ray  attention  from  him, 
and  thought  of  Tom  Thumb." 

A  young  gentlemen,  who  was  bred  to  the  Bar, 
having  a  desire  to  be  in  company  with  Dr.  Johnson, 
was,  in  consequence,  invited  by  Miss  Reynolds,  Sir 
Joshua's  sister,  to  meet  him  at  their  house.  When  the 
interview  took  place,  they  fell  into  deep  conversation 
on  politics,  and  the  diiferent  governments  in  Europe, 
particularly  that  of  Venice.  Miss  Reynolds,  who  re- 
lated the  anecdote,  said,  that  as  it  was'a  subject  which 
she  neitiier  liked  or  understood,  she  did  not  attend  to 


120  MEMOIRS  OF 

tlie  conversation,  except  to  hear  that  tlie  young  man 
was  humbly  making  his  inquiries  to  gain  all  possible 
information  from  the  profound  knowledge  of  Dr.  John- 
son; when  her  attention  was  suddenly  attracted  by  the 
Doctor  exclaiming  in  a  very  loud  and  peremptory 
tone  of  voice,  *'  Yes,  Sir.  I  know  very  well  that  all 
Republican  rascals  think  as  you  do!'^ 

One  morning  when  Garrick  paid  a  visit  to  Sir 
Josliua,  in  the  course  of  conversation  he  was  very 
freely  giving  his  opinion  upon  an  eminent  author  of 
that  time;  he  particularly  condemned  his  dramatic 
works,  respecting  which  he  expressed  himself  in  these 
words:  '*  Damn  his  dish-clout  face;  his  plays  would 
never  do  for  the  stage  if  I  did  not  cook  them  up  and 
make  prologues  and  epilogues  for  him,  so  that  they 
go  down  with  the  public.*'  He  also  added,  "  he 
hates  you,  Sir  Joshua,  because  you  do  not  admire 
the  painter  whom  he  considers  as  a  second  ('or- 
regio."  "  Who  is  that?"  replied  Sir  Joshua.  "  Why, 
his  Corregio,''  answered  Garrick,  "  is  Romney  tlie 
painter  !*' 

I  remember  to  have  heard  Garrick  complain  that  it 
was  a  very  great  fatigue  to  him  to  dine  in  company  so 
frequently  as  his  interest  seemed  to  require.  From 
hence  we  may  conclude,  tliat  he  considered  himself  as 
under  the  necessity  of  being  a  very  delightful  com- 
panion, which  he  certainly  was:  but  had  he  been 
content  to  be  like  other  persons  at  table,  it  would 
liave  then  been  no  fatigue  to  him.  On  the  same  ac- 
count he  avoided  ever  going  to  a  masquerade  in  any 
specific  personification,  as  that  would  have  involved 
liim  in  the  diflBculty  of  supporting  his  character  as  a 
wit. 

Sir  Joshua  had  given  to  Dr.  Johnson  a  copy  of 
that  portrait  now  at  Knowle,  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of 
Dorset,  in  which  the  Doctor  is  represented  with  his 
hands  held  up,  and  in  his  own  short  hair;  it  is  nearly 
a  profile,  and  there  has  been  a  print  taken  from  it, 
which  portrait  the  Doctor  notices  this  year  iu  the  fol- 
lowing letter : 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  121 

••  TO  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS,  IN  LEICESTER-FIELDS. 
<*  DEAR  SIR, 

"  When  I  came  to  Lichfield,  1  found  that  my 
portrait  had  been  much  visited,  and  much  admired. 
Every  man  has  a  lurking  wisli  to  appear  considerable 
in  his  native  place;  and  I  was  pleased  witli  the  digni- 
ty conferred  by  such  a  testimony  of  your  regard. 

^'  Be  pleased,  therefore, 

"  To  accept  the  thanks  of,  Sir, 

^'  Your  most  obliged  and  humble  serv't. 

"  Sam.  Johnson. 
«  Ashbourn  in  Derbyshire,  July  17,  1771. 
"  Compliments  to  Miss  Reynolds." 

Dr.  Johnson  knew  nothing  of  the  art  of  painting 
either  in  theory  or  practice,  which  is  one  proof  that 
he  could  not  be  the  author  of  Sir  Joshua's  discourses ; 
indeed  his  imperfect  sight  was  some  excuse  for  his 
total  ignorance  in  that  department  of  study.  Once 
being  at  dinner  at  Sir  Joslma's,  in  company  witli 
many  painters,  in  the  course  of  conversation  Richard- 
son's Treatise  on  painting  happened  to  be  mentioned. 
"  Ah !"  said  Johnson,  *^  1  remember  when  I  was  at 
college,  I  by  chance  found  that  book  on  my  stairs :  I 
took  it  up  with  me  to  my  cliamber  and  read  it  through, 
and  truly  I  did  not  think  it  possible  to  say  so  much 
upon  the  art."  Sir  Joshua,  who  could  not  hear  dis- 
tinctly, desired  of  one  of  the  company  to  be  informed 
what  Johnson  had  said;  and  it  being  repeated  to  him 
so  loud  that  Johnson  heard  it,  the  Doctor  seemed  hurt, 
and  added,  "  But  I  did  not  wish.  Sir,  that  Sir  Joshua 
should  have  been  told  what  I  then  said." 


12;3  MEMOIRS  OF 

Tlie  latter  speech  of  Jolinson  denotes  a  delicacy  in 
him,  and  an  unwillingness  to  offend :  and  it  evinces  a 
part  of  his  character  ^vllich  he  has  not  had  the  credit  of 
having  ever  possessed. 

Sir  John  Hawkins  also  observes  very  well  of  John- 
son, that  of  the  beauties  of  painting,  notwithstanding 
the  many  eulogiums  on  the  art,  which,  after  the  com- 
mencement of  his  friendship  with  Sir  Joshua,  he 
inserted  in  his  writings,  he  had  not  the  least  concep- 
tion; indeed  he  said  once  to  Sir  John,  that  in  his 
"whole  life  he  was  never  capable  of  discerning  the 
least  resemblance  of  any  kind,  betw  een  a  picture  and 
the  subject  it  was  designed  to  represent. 

Those  who  wish  to  know  more  of  his  sentiments 
upon  the  art,  may  find  a  specimen  in  an  anecdote 
related  by  Mrs.  Piozzi  on  that  subject,  in  the  98tli 
page  of  her  book. 

JBut  I  shall  give,  as,  perhaps,  a  more  pleasing  sub- 
ject, some  other  ideas  of  Dr.  Johnson,  '^  that  majestic 
teacher  of  moral  and  religious  wisdom,"  who,  in  sev- 
eral places,  thus  speaks  of  portraits; 

*•  Genius  is  chiefly  exerted  in  historical  pictures, 
and  the  art  of  the  painter  of  portraits  is  often  lost  in 
the  obscurity  of  this  subject.  But  it  is  in  painting  as 
in  life;  what  is  greatest  is  not  always  best.  I  should 
grieve  to  see  lieijnolds  ti-ansfcr  to  heroes  and  to  god- 
desses, to  empty  splendor  and  to  airy  iiction,  that  art, 
which  is  now  employed  in  diffusing  friendship,  in 
renewing  tenderness,  in  quickening  the  affections  of 
the  absent,  and  continuing  the  presence  of  the  dead.'* 

And  again,  '^  Every  man  is  ahvays  present  to  him- 
self, and  has,  therefore,  little  need  of  his  own  resem- 
blance; nor  can  desire  it  but  for  the  sake  of  those 
whom  he  loves,  and  by  whom  he  hopes  to  be  remem- 
bered. This  use  of  the  art  is  a  natural  and  reasonable 
consequence  of  affection ;  and  though,  like  other 
human  actions,  it  is  often  complicated  with  pride,  yet 
even  such  pride  is  more  laudable  tiiau  that  by  which 
palaces  are   covered   with   pictures,   that,   however 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  123 

excellent,  neither  imply  the  owners  virtue,  nor  ex- 
cite it.^^ 

This  is  certainly  the  best  apology  for  portrait  that 
has  ever  been  given ;  and  to  it  I  shall  here  add  a  few 
observations  of  ray  own  on  this  department  of  painting. 

Under  this  view  of  art  so  well  described  by  John- 
son, it  is  that  portrait  may  assume  a  dignity:  and 
certain  it  is  that  all  those  portraits  which  have  beea 
executed  by  the  higher  order  of  painters  have  it;  as 
we  may  perceive  in  them  how  much  the  genius  of  the 
artist  has  been  able  to  discern,  and  faithfully  to  repre- 
sent that  which  was  characteristic  and  valuable  in  the 
individual  wliich  was  his  model,  and  thereby  clearly 
demonstrated  the  possession  of  high  powers. 

But  the  reason  why  portrait  is  treated  with  so  much 
contempt,  is  because  there  are  more  bad  pictures  of  this 
class  preserved  than  of  any  other  branch  in  the  art,  on 
account  of  their  local  value,  being  the  resemblance  of 
some  favourite  object,  whereas,  the  bad  performances 
in  any  other  branch  of  art  having  no  value,  are  neglect- 
ed and  perish.  It  may  be  observed  also,  that  more 
bad  portrait  painters  get  employment  than -bad  pain- 
ters of  any  other  class ;  which  adds  to  the  comparative 
plenty  of  those  works :  and  this  excessive  plenty  of 
bad  portraits,  from  the  above  causes,  has,  in  the  end, 
given  a  degraded  rank  to  that  department.  But  could 
we  see  in  portraiture  all  the  qualities  displayed  of 
which  it  is  capable,  it  would  be  found  to  contain  many 
of  the  highest  merits  of  even  history  itself;  and  those 
who  treat  it  slightly  surely  cannot  have  examined  it 
with  a  sufficient  attention  nor  have  had  a  clear  idea  of 
all  its  difficulties  and  merits.  It  appears  to  me  to  be 
in  many  respects  similar  to  that  of  writing  a  distinct 
character  of  an  individual,  which,  when  it  is  done 
with  justice  and  nice  discrimination,  I  apprehend  to 
be  a  greater  effort  of  genius  than  to  write  the  life  or 
memoir. 

Bat  the  department  of  portrait  alone  may  be  divided 
into  different  classes  as  practised  by  different  profes- 
sors   according  to   their   abilities   and  inclinations, 

R 


1£4  MEMOIRS  OF 

Three  are  distinct,  for  instance ;  and  first  those  por- 
traits which  are  true  but  not  ingenious,  where  their 
merit  consists  in  a  careful  endeavour  at  similitude  to 
the  person  represented,  but  in  a  manner  dry,  laboured, 
and  tasteless :  secondly,  those  wliich  are  ingenious  but 
not  true ;  in  tiiese  much  skill  is  often  to  be  found,  but 
tlicn  the  pure  imitation  of  nature  lias  been  sacrificed  to 
ideal  graces  and  adscititious  beauties ;  Lely  and  Kneller 
are  instances;  the  consequence  of  which  is,  that  man- 
ner and  sameness  become  the  poor  substitute  for  truth, 
variety,  and  nature.  Such  works  are  too  much  like 
each  other  to  be  like  any  thing  else,  and  create  no  in- 
terest: but  that  order  of  portrait  which  does  honour  to 
the  department  is  both  true  and  ingenious,  as  may  be 
exemplified  in  tiie  works  of  Rembrandt,  Velasquez, 
Vandyke,  Reynolds,  and  Titian. 

After  all  that  has  been  said,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that  a  decided  superiority  must  be  given  to  his- 
torical painting,  when  it  is  of  the  highest  order,  as  it 
requires,  of  necessity,  a  much  greater  mass  of  acquired 
knowledge  of  every  kind:  also,  because  that  in  it  is 
contained  a  large  portion  of  the  excellence  of  portrait, 
if  not  the  whole:  and  when  portraiture  is  compared 
with  grand  composition,  it  bears  but  as  a  part,  and,  of 
consequence,  a  part  is  mucb  easier  to  accomplish  than 
a  whole. 

Yet  I  will  venture  to  say,  that,  in  certain  instances, 
1  have  seen  groupes  of  portraits  by  Titian  which  have 
contained  the  essence  of  history ;  and  history  by 
Raffaelle  which  contained  the  essence  of  portrait: 
and  it  can  scarcely  be  denied,  that  portrait,  in  its 
greatest  degree  of  perfection,  becomes  a  species  of 
history,  as  it  must  possess  its  first  merits,  character, 
and  expression;  and  that  history  is  not  degraded  by 
the  introduction  of  dignified  portrait.  Therefore  I  am 
of  opinion  that  it  is  a  most  useful  and  necessary  part 
of  the  practice  of  an  historical  painter,  that  he  some- 
times should  recur  to  the  close  imitation  of  nature  by 
employing  himself  in  portrait,  and  not  survey  it  with 
an  improper  pride.  A  strong  proof  of  an  ingenious  anfl 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  1^5 

speculative  mind  is  its  being  able  to  gain  instruction 
from  every  quarter,  even  from  whence  it  might  be  least 
expected. 

While  on  the  subject  of  portrait,  I  may  be  allowed 
to  observe,  that  it  is  a  very  desirable  tiling  that  the 
name  should  be  written  on  the  back  of  every  portrait, 
signifying  the  person  it  represents. 

I  reme.nber  a  letter  from  Mr.  Locke  to  Cullings,  of 
which  the  following  is  an  extract: 

"  Pray  get  Sir  Godfrey  to  write  on  the  back  of 
Lady  Marsham's  picture,  Lady  Marsham;  and  on 
the  back  of  mine,  John  Locke,  I7OL  This  he  did  to 
Mr.  Molyneaux's :  it  is  necessary  to  be  done,  or  else 
the  pictures  of  private  persons  are  lost  in  two  or  three 
generations ;  and  so  the  picture  loses  its  value,  it  not 
being  known  whom  it  was  made  to  represent." 

Mr.  Locke  died  about  a  month  after  this  letter  was 
written. 

Sir  Joshua  himself,  indeed,  never  did  tliis,  nor  even 
mark  his  own  name,  except  in  the  instance  of  Mrs. 
Siddons's  portrait  as  the  Tragic  Muse,  wiien  he  wrote 
his  name  upon  the  hem  of  her  garment. 

I  remember  to  have  heard  General  Paoli  declare, 
that  lie  could  decide  on  the  character  and  disposition 
of  a  man  whose  letter  he  had  seen. 

Notwithstanding  this  assertion  may  be  carried 
something  beyond  what  we  may  be  inclined  to  allow, 
yet  it  is  not  destitute  of  truth  to  such  as  arc  nice  dis- 
criminators  of  character. 

If  such  is  possible  to  be  the  case  from  merely  see. 
ing  a  letter,  how  much  more  information  may  we  sup- 
pose to  be  drawn  from  a  fine  portrait ;  and  in  this  par- 
ticular excellence  the  portraits  of  Reynolds  most  cer- 
tainly surpass  all  other  portraits  existing  in  the  world. 
This  brings  to  my  remembrance  the  anecdote  told  of 
Bernini,  the  famous  sculptor,  that  Charles  the  First 
having  a  desire  that  Bernini  should  make  his  bust, 
sent  over  his  portrait,  painted  by  Vandyke,  which  ex- 
hibited three  views  of  his  face  ;  and  when  the  picture 
was  presented  to  Bernini,  who  did  not  know  whom  it 


126  MEMOIRS  OF 

representetl,  he  immediately  exclaimed,  "^  My  God  ! 
whose  portrait  is  this! — the  man  will  not  come  to  a 
timely  end/^ 

In  the  course  of  this  year,  Sir  Joshua  took  another 
trip  to  Paris,  from  which  he  had  scarcely  returned 
when  Mr.  Bennet  Langton  renewed,  in  a  very  press- 
ing manner,  an  invitation  which  he  had  given  to  hini 
and  Goldsmith  to  spend  some  part  of  the  autumn  with 
hini  and  his  lady,  the  Countess  of  llothes,  at  their 
seat  in  Lincolnshire.  Witli  this  obliging  request,  how- 
ever, he  was  unable  to  comply,  and  Goldsmith  in  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Langton,  declining  the  invitation  on  the 
part  of  both,  says,  "  Reynolds  is  just  returned  from 
Paris,  and  finds  himself  now  in  the  case  of  a  truant, 
that  must  make  up  for  his  idle  time  by  diligence ;  we 
have  therefore  agreed  to  postpone  our  journey  till 
next  summer." 

In  fact,  at  this  period  Sir  Joshua  may  be  said  to 
have  been  at  the  zenith  of  his  eminence,  as  we  see 
him  now  employed  in  pourtraying  th«  most  illustrious 
personages  in  every  different  department,  whilst  his 
intimacy  was  sedu»usly  sought  after  by  all  degrees  of 
persons. 

Much  of  the  attention  which  even  Goldsmith  per- 
sonally met  with  was  undoubtedly  owing  to  the  pat- 
ronage of  his  admired  friend ;  yet  Sir  Joshua  used  to 
say,  that  Goldsmith  looked  at,  or  considered,  public 
notoriety,  or  fame,  as  one  great  parcel,  to  the  whole 
of  which  he  laid  claim,  and  whoever  partook  of  any 
part  of  it,  whether  dancer,  singer,  slight  of  hand  man, 
oi*  tumbler,  deprived  him  of  his  right,  and  drew  off 
the  attention  of  the  world  from  himself  and  which  he 
was  striving  to  gain.  Notwithstanding  this^  he  la- 
mented that  whenever  he  entered  into  a  mixed  com- 
pany, he  struck  a  kind  of  awe  on  them,  which  de- 
prived him  of  the  enjoyment  and  freedom  of  society, 
and  which  he  then  made  it  his  endeavour  to  dispel  by 
playing  wanton  and  childish  pranks  in  order  to  bring 
himself  to  the  wisbed-for  level. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


127 


It  was  very  soon  after  my  first  arrival  in  London, 
where  every  thing  appeared  new  and  wonderful  to  me, 
that  1  expressed  to  Sir  Joshua  my  impatient  cnriosily 
to  see  Dr.  Goldsmith,  and  he  promised  I  should  do 
so  on  the  first  opportunity.  Soon  afterwards  Gold- 
smith came  to  dine  with  him,  and  immediately  on  my 
entering  the  room,  Sir  Joshua,  with  a  designed  ab- 
ruptness, said  to  me,  "  This  is  Dr.  Goldsmith :  pray 
why  did  you  wish  to  seehini'?"  I  was  much  confused 
by  the  suddenness  of  the  question,  and  answered,  in 
my  hurry,  '•  Because  he  is  a  notable  man."  This,  in 
one  sense  of  the  word,  was  so  very  contrary  to  the 
character  and  conduct  of  Goldsmith,  that  Sir  Joshua 
burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  and  said,  that  Goldsmith 
should,  in  future,  always  be  called  the  notable  man. 

What  I  meant,  however,  to  say  was,  that  he  was  a 
man  of  note,  or  eminence. 

He  appeared  to  me  to  be  very  unafiected  and  good- 
natured  ;  but  he  was  totally  ignorant  of  tlie  art  of 
painting,  and  this  he  often  confessed  with  much 
gaiety. 

It  has  often  been  said  of  Goldsmith,  that  he  was 
ever  desirous  of  being  the  object  of  attention  in  all 
companies  where  he  was  present;  which  the  follow- 
ing anecdote  may  serve  to  prove. 

On  a  summer's  excursion  to  the  continent  he  accom- 
panied a  lady  and  her  two  beautiful  daughters  into 
France  and  Flanders,  and  often  expressed  a  little  dis- 
pleasure at  perceiving  that  more  attention  was  paid  to 
them  than  to  himself.  On  their  entering  a  town,  I 
think  Antwerp,  the  populace  surrounded  the  door  of 
the  hotel  at  which  they  alighted,  and  testified  a  desire 
to  see  those  beautiful  young  women ;  and  the  ladies, 
willing  to  gratify  them,  came  into  a  balcony  at  the 
front  of  the  house,  and  Goldsmith  with  them;  but 
perceiving  that  it  was  not  himself  who  was  the  object 
of  admiration,  he  presently  withdrew,  with  evident 
signs  of  mortification,  saying,  as  he  went  out,  ^'  There 
are  places  where  I  am  the  object  of  admiration  also.'' 


128  MEMOIRS  OF 

One  (lay  when  Drs.  Goldsmith  anil  Johnson  were 
at  dinner  with  Sir  Joshua,  a  poem,  by  a  poet  already 
alluded  to,  was  presented  to  Sir  Joshua,  by  his  ser- 
vant, iVoni  the  autlior.  Goldsmith  immediately  laid 
hold  of  it,  and  began  to  read  it,  and  at  every  line  cut 
almost  through  the  paper  with  his  tinger  nail,  crying 

out,  *^  Wiiat  d d   nonsense  is   this  ;'^  w  hen  Sir 

Joshua  caught  it  out  of  his  hands,  saying,  ^'  No,  no, 
don't  do  so;  you  shall  not  spoil  my  book,  neither:" 
for  the  Doctor  could  not  bear  to  hear  of  another's  fame. 

Sir  Joshua  was  always  cautious  to  preserve  an  un- 
blemished character,  and  careful  not  to  make  any  man 
his  enemy.  1  remember  when  he  was  told  of  some 
very  indiscreet  speech  or  action  of  Goldsmith,  he 
quickly  said,  '•'  AVhat  a  fool  he  is  thus  to  commit  him- 
self, when  he  has  so  much  more  cause  to  be  careful  of 
his  reputation  than  I  have  of  mine !"  well  recollecting 
that  even  the  most  trivial  circumstance  w  hich  tells 
against  an  eminent  person,  will  be  remembered  as 
well  as  those  in  his  favour ;  and  that  the  world  watch 
those  who  are  distinguished  for  their  abilities  with  a 
jealous  eye. 

Sir  William  Tem^ile,  in  his  Memoirs,  relates  a  sur- 
prizing instance  of  sagacity  in  a  Macaw,  one  of  the 
parrot  genus  of  the  largest  kind,  which  occurred 
under  his  own  observation.  His  relation  is,  indeed,  a 
very  wonderful  one ;  but  I  am  the  more  apt  to  give  it 
credit  from  bfeing  myself  a  witness  of  the  following 
instance  of  apparent  intellect  in  a  bird  of  this  species, 
and  therefore  can  vouch  for  its  truth :  at  the  same  time 
I  hope  to  be  excused  for  giving  what  I  consider  mere- 
ly as  a  curious  circumstance,  and  not  to  incur  the 
accusation  of  vanity,  in  this  instance  at  least,  by 
making  a  weak  endeavour  to  extol  my  own  poor 
work,  for  very  poor  it  was. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  time  that  I  passed  with  Sir 
Joshua  as  his  scholar,  I  had,  for  the  sake  of  practice, 
painted  the  portrait  of  one  of  the  female  servants  :  but 
my  performance  had  no  other  merit  than  that  of  being 
a  strong  likeness. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  129 

Sir  Joshua  had  a  large  raacaw,  which  he  often 
introduced  into  his  pictures,  as  may  he  seen  from 
several  priuts.  This  bird  was  a  great  favourite,  and 
was  always  kept  in  the  dining  parlour,  w  here  he  be- 
came a  nuisance  to  this  same  house-maid,  whose 
department  it  was  to  clean  the  room  after  Isim  ;  of 
course,  they  were  not  upon  very  good  terms  with  each 
other. 

The  portrait,  when  finished,  was  brought  into  the 
parlour,  one  day  after  dinner,  to  be  shown  to  the 
family,  that  they  might  judge  of  the  progress  I  had 
made.  It  was  placed  against  a  chair,  while  tlie  macaw 
was  in  a  distant  part  of  the  room,  so  that  he  did  not 
immediately  perceive  the  picture  as  he  walked  about 
on  the  floor ;  but  when  lie  turned  round  and  saw  the 
features  of  his  enemy,  he  quickly  spread  his  wings, 
and  in  great  fury  ran  to  it,  and  stretched  himself  up  to 
bite  at  the  face.  Finding,  however,  that  it  did  not 
move,  he  then  bit  at  the  hand,  but  perceiving  it  remain 
inanimate,  he  proceeded  to  examine  the  picture  be- 
hind, and  then,  as  if  he  had  satisfied  his  curiosity, 
left  it,  and  walked  again  to  a  distant  part  of  the  room ; 
but  whenever  he  turned  about,  and  again  saw  tlie 
picture,  he  would,  with  the  same  action  of  rage,  re- 
peatedly attack  it.  The  experiment  was  afterwards 
repeated,  on  various  occasions,  in  the  presence  of 
Edmund  Burke,  Dr.  Johnson,  Dr.  Goldsmith,  and 
most  of  Sir  Joshua's  friends,  and  never  failed  of  suc- 
cess; and  what  made  it  still  more  remarkable  was, 
that  when  tlie  bird  was  tried  by  any  other  portrait,  he 
took  no  notice  of  it  whatever. 

On  the  10th  of  December  in  this  year,  Sir  Joshua 
delivered  his  fourth  discourse,  whose  object  was  to 
give  a  vie\v  of  those  general  ideas  from  whence  arises 
that  [)residing  principle  which  regulates  the  art  of 
Painting,  under  the  various  heads  of  Invention,  Ex- 
pression, Colouring,  and  Drapery;  after  which  he 
took  a  view  of  the  two  separate  styles,  the  Grand  and 
the  Ornamental,  in  Historical  Composition,  specifying 
the  scliools  in  which  examples  of  each  were  to  be 


130  MEMOIRS  OF 

foiiiul :  to  this  he  added  a  sketch  of  what  he  desiguated 
as  the  Composite  style  formed  from  local  hahits  and 
customs,  as  well  as  on  a  partial  observation  of  nature. 

To  enter  into  any  thing  like  a  specific  detail  of 
subjects  so  grand  and  so  extensive,  would  be  to  copy 
the  whole  of  this  excellent  discourse,  which  may,  in 
fact,  be  compared  to  a  cabinet  of  gems,  as  combining, 
Avifchin  its  circumscribed  limits,  every  thing  rich  and 
rare:  yet  as  my  plan  requires  me  to  give  a  view  of  his 
opinions,  as  well  as  of  his  actions,  through  a  life 
nia<%:ed  with  the  excellencies  both  of  the  man  and  the 
painter,  I  trust  I  shall  be  indulged  in  embodying  a 
few  of  his  well  digested  ideas  into  this  part  of  my 
work,  directed  rather  to  the  reader  of  taste  than  to 
the  artist. 

To  form  a  judgment  from  his  opening,  one  must 
see  immediately  the  claim  whicii  Painting  has  upon 
the  human  mind ;  as  he  lays  it  down  as  a  principle  that 
the  value  and  rank  of  every  art  is  in  proportion  to  the 
mental  labour  employed  in  it,  or  the  mental  pleasure 
produced  by  it;  wherefore,  as  this  principle  is  ob- 
served or  neglected,  the  profession  of  the  painter  be- 
comes either  a  liberal  art,  or  merely  a  mechanical 
trade. 

This  principle  he  even  considered  as  discriminative 
in  the  art  itself,  stating,  that  this  exertion  of  mind, 
which  is  the  only  circumstance  that  truly  ennobles  the 
art,  makes  the  great  distinction  between  the  Koman 
and  Venetian  schools. 

With  respect  to  Invention  in  painting,  he  did  not 
apply  that  term  merely  to  the  invention  of  the  subject, 
such  being  for  the  most  part,  supplied  by  the  historian 
or  the  poet :  but  still  the  choice  must  rest  with  the 
artist,  for  as  no  subject  can  be  proper  that  is  not  gen- 
erally interesting,  so  it  ought  to  be  either  some  emi- 
nent instance  of  heroic  action,  or  of  heroic  suflering, 
of  spirit  or  of  fortitude,  accompanied,  either  in  the 
action  or  in  the  object,  by  something  in  which  man- 
kind are  universally  concerned,  and  which  strikes 
powerfully  upon  the  public  sympathy. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  131 

luvention,  then,  he  defiued  by  observing,  that  when- 
ever a  story  is  related,  every  man  forms  a  picture  in 
his  mind  of  the  action  and  expression  of  the  persons 
employed;  and  therefore  what  we  call  invention  in  a 
painter,  is  the  power  of  representing  this  mental  pic- 
ture on  canvas. 

Minuteness  of  representation  in  the  concomitant 
parts  of  a  story,  he  thought  unnecessary,  any  further 
than  that  they  should  not  he  unnatural,  but  judicious- 
ly contrived,  so  as  not  to  strike  the  spectator  more 
than  they  did  himself  at  the  first  conception  of  his  com- 
position :  for  as  the  general  idea  constitutes  real  ex- 
cellence, so  all  smaller  things,  however  perfect  in 
their  way,  must  be  sacrificed  without  mercy  to  the 
greater.  To  every  kind  of  painting,  he  considered 
this  rule  as  applicable;  particularly  in  portraits,  where 
the  grace,  and  even  the  likeness  consist  more  in 
taking  the  general  air,  than  in  observing  the  exact 
similitude  of  every  feature. 

In  this  part  of  his  discourse  he  gave  some  hints  by 
no  means  useless  to  every  day  connoisseurs,  saying, 
that  we  know  well  enough,  when  we  analyze  a  pic- 
ture, the  difficulty  and  subtilty  with  which  an  artist 
adjusts  the  back-ground,  drapery,  and  masses  of 
light;  we  know  that  a  considerable  part  of  the  grace 
and  effect  of  his  picture  depends  upon  them ;  but  then 
this  art  is  so  much  concealed,  even  to  a  judicious  eye, 
that  no  remains  of  any  of  these  subordinate  parts  occur 
to  the  memory  when  the  picture  is  not  present. 

As  the  great  end  of  the  art  is  to  strike  the  imagina- 
tion, so  the  painter  is  to  make  no  ostentation  of  the 
means,  by  which  this  is  done ;  the  spectator  is  only  to 
feel  the  result  in  his  bosom :  an  inferior  artist,  indeed, 
he  acknowledged,  is  unwilling  that  any  part  of  his 
industry  should  be  lost  upon  the  spectator;  he  takes 
as  much  pains  to  discover,  as  the  greatest  artist  does 
to  conceal,  the  marks  of  his  subordinate  assiduity. 
Thus  in  works  of  the  lower  kind,  every  thing  appears 
studied,  and  encumbered :  it  is  all  boastful  art  and 
open  affectation.  ♦'•  The  ignorant  often  part  from  such 


133  MEMOIRS  OF 

pictures  with  wonder  in  their  mouths,  and  indifference 
in  their  hearts!" 

In  Expression,  Sir  Joshua  considered  the  painter 
as  having  difficulties  to  contend  with,  very  different 
from  those  of  the  poet  or  tlie  historian  :  he  has  hut 
one  sentence  to  utter,  hut  one  moment  to  exhibit  or 
embody;  he  cannot  expatiate,  or  impress  the  mind 
with  a  progression  of  circumstances  which  excite 
veneration  for  the  hero  or  the  saint :  he  has  no  means 
of  giving  an  idea  of  the  dignity  of  the  mind,  but  by 
that  external  appearance  which  grandeur  of  thought 
does  generally,  thougli  not  always,  impress  on  the 
countenance,  and  by  that  correspondence  of  figure  to 
sentiment  and  situation,  which  all  men  wish,  but  can- 
not command. 

As  the  painter,  therefore,  cannot  make  his  hero  talk 
like  a  great  man,  he  must  make  him  look  like  one ;  for 
which  reason,  he  ought  to  be  well  studied  in  the 
analyses  of  those  circumstances  which  constitute  dig- 
nity of  appearance  in  real  life :  but  as  in  Invention, 
so  likewise  in  Expression,  care  must  be  taken  not  to 
run  into  particularities,  and  those  expressions  alone 
ought  to  be  given  to  the  figures,  which  their  respective 
situations  generally  produce. 

As  a  principle,  alike  essential  to  the  artist  and  tlie 
connoisseur,  with  respect  to  Colouring,  he  observed, 
that  to  give  a  general  air  of  grandeur  at  first  view,  all 
trifling  or  artful  play  of  little  lights,  or  an  attention  to 
a  variety  of  tints,  are  to  be  avoided ;  and  that  a  quiet- 
ness and  simplicity  must  reign  over  the  whole  of  a  pic- 
ture, to  which  a  breadth  of  uniform  and  simple  colour 
will  very  much  contribute. 

In  this  branch  of  the  art,  he  considered  Grandeur 
of  Effect  to  be  produced  in  two  different  ways,  which 
seem  entirely  opposed  to  each  other;  the  one  being  the 
reducing  of  tlie  colours  to  little  more  than  chiaro  scuro, 
as  practised  in  the  scliool  of  Bologna ;  the  other,  as 
in  the  Roman  and  Florentine  schools,  making  the 
colours  very  distinct  and  forcible;  whilst  still,  the 
presiding  principle  of  both  these  manners  is  simplicity. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  133 

For  though  the  varied  tints  of  the  last  mentioned 
schools  have  not  that  kind  of  harmony  which  is  pro- 
duced by  other  means,  still  they  have  that  effect  of 
grandeur  which  was  intended.  "•  Perhaps  these  dis- 
tinct colours  strike  the  mind  more  forcibly,  from  there 
not  being  any  great  union  between  them  ;  as  martial 
music,  whicli  is  intended  to  rouse  tlie  nobler  passions, 
has  its  effect  from  its  sudden  and  strongly  marked 
transitions  from  one  note  to  another,  which  that  style 
of  music  requires;  whilst  in  that  which  is  intended  to 
move  the  softer  passions,  the  notes  imperceptibly  melt 
into  one  another." 

In  Drapery,  the  great  painter  must,  as  he  observed, 
adhere  to  the  foregoing  principles,  carefully  avoiding 
the  debasement  of  his  conceptions  with  minute  dis- 
criminations of  stuffs,  which  mark  the  inferior  style; 
for  "  with  him  the  cloathing  is  neither  woollen  nor 
linen,  nor  silk,  satin,  or  velvet:  it  is  drapery;  it  is 
nothing  more."  He  acknowledged,  indeed,  that  the 
art  of  disposing  the  foldings  of  the  drapery,  makes  a 
very  considerable  part  of  the  painter's  study;  but  that 
to  make  it  merely  ^natural,  is  a  mechanical  operation, 
to  which  neither  genius  nor  taste  are  required,  whilst 
at  the  same  time  it  demands  the  nicest  judgment  to 
dispose  the  drapery,  so  as  that  the  folds  shall  have  an 
easy  communication,  gracefully  following  each  other, 
with  such  natural  negligence  as  to  look  like  the  effect 
of  chance,  and  at  the  same  time  shew  the  figure  undef 
it  to  the  utmost  advantage. 

In  adverting  to  the  various  schools,  he  considered 
the  Roman,  Florentine,  and  Bolognese,  as  the  three 
great  ones  in  the  epic  style,  whilst  the  best  of  the 
French  painters  were  to  be  considered  as  a  colony 
from  the  former  of  the  three;  but  the  Venetian,  Flem- 
ish, and  Dutch  schools,  he  ranked  beneath  them,  as 
all  professing  to  depart  from  the  great  pur[)oses  of 
painting,  and  catching  at  applause  by  inferior  qual- 
ities. 

It  will  be  readily  understood  from  this,  that  he  es- 
teemed the  ornamental  style  as  of  inferior  considera- 


13*  MEMOIRS  OF 

tion  in  coniparisou  with  the  otIicr;for  as  mere  ele- 
gance was  their  principal  object,  particularly  in  the 
Venetian  school,  and  as  they  seemed  more  willing  to 
dazzle  than  to  affect,  so  it  could  be  no  injury  to  them 
to  suppose  that  their  practice  is  useful  only  to  its 
proper  end  ;  for  as  what  may  heighten  the  elegant  may 
degrade  the  sublime :  so  the  simplicity,  nay  severity, 
of  the  great  manner,  is  almost  incompatible  with  this 
comparatively  sensual  style. 

He  then  boldly  laid  it  down  as  a  maxim,  that  "  such 
as  suppose  that  the  great  style  might  happily  be 
blended  with  the  ornamental,  that  the  simple,  grave, 
and  majestic  dignity  of  Raffaelle  could  unite  with  the 
glow  and  bustle  of  a  Paolo  or  Tintoret,  are  totally 
mistaken.  The  principles  by  which  each  is  attained, 
are  so  contrary  to  each  other,  that  they  seem,  in  my 
opinion,  incompatible,  and  as  impossible  to  exist  to- 
gether, as  that  in  the  mind  the  most  sublime  ideas 
and  the  lowest  sensuality  should  at  the  same  time  be 
united." 

To  mark  the  distinction,  therefore,  more  strongly 
between  the  two  principal  styles,  he  added,  that  how- 
ever contradictory  it  may  be  in  geometry,  it  is  yet 
true  in  matters  of  taste,  that  many  little  things  will 
never  make  a  great  one  ;  that  the  sublime  impresses 
the  mind  at  once  with  one  great  idea,  as  at  a  single 
blow ;  whilst  the  elegant  may  be,  and  is,  produced 
by  repetition,  by  an  accumulation  of  many  minute  cir- 
cumstances. 

After  giving  a  professional  and  philosophical  view* 
of  the  various  schools  in  these  styles.  Sir  Joshua 
observed,  that  of  those  who  have  practiced  the  Com- 
posite style,  and  have  succeeded  in  this  perilous 
attempt,  perhaps  the  foremost  is  Corregio;  his  style 
being  founded  on  modern  grace  and  elegance,  to 
which  is  superadded  something  of  the  simplicity  of  the 
grand  style  ;  conspiring  with  which  effect  are  breadth 
of  light  and  colour,  the  general  ideas  of  the  drapery, 
and  an  uuterrupted  flow  of  outline. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  135 

He  then  allowed,  that  next  to  him,  if  not  his  equal, 
was  Parraegiano,  whom  he  described  as  dignifying 
the  gentleness  of  modern  effeminacy,  by  uniting  it 
with  the  simplicity  of  the  ancients,  and  the  grandeur 
and  severity  of  Michael  Angelo.  He  confessed,  in- 
deed, that  these  two  extraordinary  men,  by  en- 
deavouring to  give  the  utmost  degree  of  grace,  liave 
sometimes,  perhaps,  exceeded  its  boundaries,  and 
have  fallen  into  the  most  hateful  of  all  hateful  qualities, 
affectation. 

Still  did  he  adhere  to  the  opinion  that  the  errors  of 
genius  are  pardonable,  at  the  same  time  that  none, 
even  of  the  more  exalted  painters,  are  free  from  them ; 
but  then  they  have  taught  us,  by  the  rectitude  of  their 
general  practice,  to  correct  their  own  affected  or 
accidental  deviation. 

Sir  Joshua  then  closed  his  elaborate  and  memora- 
ble  discourse,  a  discourse  so  well  adapted  to  the 
world  at  large  as  well  as  to  artists,  by  shewing, 
that  works  of  genius  and  of  science,  if  founded  upon 
the  general  truths  of  nature,  will  live  for  ever;  whilst 
those  which  depend  upon  the  localities  of  time  and 
place,  or  partial  vie>vs  of  nature,  and  on  the  fluctua- 
tion of  fashion,  must  inevitable  fade  away  with  those 
circumstances  whicii  have  raised  tliem  from  obscurity. 
"  Present  time  and  future,  must  be  considered  as 
rivals,  and  he  who  solicits  the  one  must  expect  to  be 
discountenanced  by  the  other." 

The  fame  and  excellence  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
could  not  fail  to  draw  on  him  the  animadversions  of 
those  who  aimed  at  the  character  of  critics,  and  who, 
to  preserve  that  character,  judged  it  necessary  to  mix 
blame  with  their  warmest  praise,  lest  they  should  in- 
cur the  name  of  flattery,  and  in  this  they  were  doubt- 
less stimulated  by  the  good  old  rule,  that  the  first  part 
of  a  knowing  critic's  duty  is  to  discover  blemishes. 
As  a  specimen  of  this,  I  shall  extract  a  passage  from 
a  work  published  in  this  year,  (177^,)  under  the  title 
of"  Letters  concerning  the  present  State  of  England," 
ia  which  the  writer  has  blended  a  strange  mixture  of 


i36  MEMOIRS  OF 

praise  and  censure,  and  what  is  most  remarkable  in  it 
is,  that  the  part  of  criticism  which  is  the  most  diflRcult 
to  execute  with  ability,  tiiat  is  the  praise,  is  liere  given 
with  much  knowledge,  discrimination,  and  truth,  and 
the  censure,  on  the  contrary,  is  either  unintelligible  or 
untrue. 

This  passage  is  as  follows :  ^^  Reynolds  is  original 
in  his  manner,  and  as  bold  and  free  in  his  style  as 
any  painter  that  Italy  ever  produced.  Freedom  is, 
indeed  his  principal  characteristic;  to  this  he  seems  to 
sacrifice  every  other  consideration :  he  has,  however, 
two  manners;  in  one  he  checks  the  extreme  freedom 
of  his  dashing  pencil,  icorks  his  figures  more  into  an 
expression,  that  may,  in  comparison  with  his  other 
pieces,  be  called  minute;  in  these  the  colouring  is 
natural  and  good; — f  so  far  is  a  very  just  critique;  J 
but  in  his  bolder,  better  works,  the  colours  are  graceful 
rather  than  chaste;  fthis  is  absolute  nonsense ; J  they 
have  the  ease  of  drawings,  and  mark  how  little  atten- 
tion was  given  by  the  artist  to  make  them  durable.  In 
his  attitudes  he  is  generally  full  of  grace,  ease,  and 
variety;  he  can  throw  his  figures  at  will  into  the  bold- 
est variations,  and  ventures  at  some  postures,  by 
w  hich  inferior  painters  would  invariably  damn  their 
works — fan  excellent  remark  and  true. J  His  learn- 
ing in  his  art  is  great — {^verij  just  J — and  this  has 
made  him  slight  colours  too  much  on  comparison  with 
drawing;  the  latter  alone  is  certainly  superior  to  the 
former  alone ; — f  exactly  the  reverse  is  the  truth  J — 
but  the  true  beauty  of  fine  colouring  is  an  essential,  and 
should  never  be  neglected.  fSirJoshua^s  constant  aim 
icas  colour.  J  In  a  word  this  painter  is  more  a  man  of 
genius  than  an  agreeable  artist; —  fhe  was  both  in  an 
eminent  degree; J — there  is  more  fire  than  nature  in 
his  works;  more  energy  than  softness; — f' no  painter 
that  ever  lived  had  more  softness ; J — more  ease  than 
beauty;  sueli  as  will  rather  awaken  knowledge  than 
kindle  pleasure" — fthis  is  false.  J 

In  the  course  of  this  year  Sir  Joshua  painted  a  par- 
ticular fine  picture  in  point  of  expression,  especially 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I37 

of  Resignation,  and  dedicated  the  print  taken  from 
it  to  Dr.  Goldsmith,  with  some  lines  under  it  quoted 
from  his  poem  of  the  Deserted  Village.  This 
seems  to  have  heen  done  by  Sir  Joshua  as  a  return  of 
the  compliment  to  Goldsmith,  who  liad  dedicated 
the  poem  to  him:  and  it  drew  the  following  poetical 
tribute  from  the  talents  of  Dr.  Willis,  w  hich,  as  it  re- 
lates to  those  circumstances  attending  the  picture,  to- 
getlier  with  some  tolerable  criticism  as  well  as  praise^ 
I  shall  insert. 


"  Optimum  ducem  naturam  sequimur, 
■ Quod  sit  meritus  ferat. 

"  Hail  Painting!  sweet  companion  of  the  Nine, 

For  thee  shall  Taste,  the  Rose,  and  Myrtle  twine. 

Amazing  art!  whose  magic  touch  can  throw 

O'er  canvas  Nature's  animated  glow ! 

Bid  heroes'  eyes  glare  with  heroic  fire. 

And  love's  soft  victims  languish  with  desire. 

Great  nature's  shade!  thy  mimic  power  can  raise 

The  varying  passions,  like  the  poet's  lays. 

No  more  in  search  of  science  let  us  stray 

"Where  Maro  sung,  and  Csesar  bore  the  sway: 

Britain  can  cherish  arts ;  her  meadows  yield 

As  pure  au  air  as  does  the  Appian  field  : 

Our  monarch  reigns,  the  noblest  of  his  kind, 

Art's  great  restorer, ne'er  to  merit  blind: 

For  him  shall  Painting  lasting  trophies  raise, 

Historic  pencil  tell  his  warlike  praise; 

For  him  shall  Poesy,  fir'd  with  Pindar's  flame, 

To  after  ages  consecrate  his  fame : 

For  him,  with  ardour,  ev'ry  art  shall  join ; 

With  Alfred's  name,rever'd,  his  blooming  laurels  twine 

'Tis  thine,  Oh  Reynolds  I  to  possess  the  art, 

By  speaking  canvas,  to  affect  the  heart ; 

See  1  Resignation  settled  on  that  eye ; 

Nature  can  only  with  thy  pencil  vie ! 

Hail  Resignation!  source  of  true  repose, 

Thou  best  composer  of  all  human  woes: 

Oh  come,  sweet  friend !  thy  balmy  joys  prepare  ; 

My  genius  droops,  relax'd  by  constant  care. 

Thy  moral  picture  checks  my  mournful  strain, 

Some  power  unseen  forbids  me  to  complain; 


138  MEiMOIRS  OF 

Tells  me,  kind  Hope  dawns  sweet  from  yonder  gloon>, 

On  years  to  come  awaits  a  happier  doom. 

Clieer'd  with  the  thought,  1  bend  to  lleav'n's  high  will  j 

Thy  moral  picture  sliall  support  me  still. 

AV'here  genius  shines,  its  pleasing  power  I  feel, 

Nor  strive  my  admiration  to  conceal. 

Truth  guides  my  pen,  I  scorn  the  treach'rous  wiles 

OF  servile  flattery,  aftected  smiles: 

Trutli  needs  no  dress  to  make  her  beauty  shine, 

So  poets  paint  her  naked  and  divine. 

And  genuine  Taste  may  pleasure  still  acquire, 

Whilst  Thou  canst  paint,  and  Goldsmith  tune  the  LyreP^ 

The  subject  of  the  foregoing  lines  calls  to  ray  re- 
membrance a  fragment  of  a  little  poem  composed  by 
Miss  F.  Reynolds,  youngest  surviving  sister  of  Sir 
Joshua,  which  surely  are  possessed  of  a  simplicity 
and  piety  highly  creditable  to  her  heart. 

"  Youth's  flow'ry  paths  I  now  no  more  shall  tread, 
But  those  of  age,  with  horrors  overspread : 
AVhere  the  lorn  wanderers,  melancholy,  slow, 
Sad  spectres,  monuments  of  woe  ! 
Ruins  of  Life !  no  semblance  left  by  time. 
No  trace  remaining  of  their  manhood's  prime, 
Oppress'd  with  gloom,  to  cares  and  fears  a  prey, 
Lonely,  forlorn,  they  linger  through  the  day, 
Pursuing  nought,  save  only  to  obtain 
A  little  space  the  dregs  of  life  to  drain : 
Tenacious  still  of  what  they  ne'er  enjoy, 
Wishing  to  rest,  and  yet  afraid  to  die ! 
No  cheerful  ray  illumes  the  dusky  vale. 
No  balmy  fragrance  floating  in  the  gale, 
But  dark  malignant  clouds,  and  noxious  dew', 
Hang  on  the  cypress  sad,  and  mournful  yew: 
In  sable  weeds,  which  flow  witli  solemn  sweep, 
'J'he  weeping  willow  seems  indeed  to  weep. 

From  this  sad  prospect  of  my  future  days, 
Bereft  of  all  that  nature  form'd  to  please, 
involuntary  oft  I  turn  mine  eye, 
^\ "here  youth,  and  hope,  and  sweet  affections  lie ; 
Where  liberal  Nature  in  profusion  pours. 
Rich  herbage,  balmy  springs  and  fragrant  flow'rs : 
The  landscape  sn^iles  around  in  beauty  gav, 
And  cheers  the  sense  with  every  chaim  of  Mav. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I39 

Alas!  not  me  to  cheer — invidious  Time 
Allows  me  not  to  taste  of  Nature's  prime; 
Holds  up  his  glass,  and  bids  me  mark  how  low, 
How  black  the  sand,  that  yet  remains  to  flow. 

Methought  a  veil,  of  lucid  rays  composed, 
Disparting  wide,  an  heav'nly  form  disclos'd. 
And  as  the  ground  her  beauteous  foot  itnprest, 
Hope's  cheerful  ray  seem'd  kindling  in  my  breast. 
With  winning  sweetness,  yet  majestic  air, 
"  I  come,"  she  cried,  "  thy  gloomy  soul  to  cheer; 
To  guide  thy  erring  will,  thy  passions  sooth, 
And  make  the  rugged  paths  of  nature  smooth, 
That  vale  below  that  fills  thy  soul  with  dread, 
And  seems  with  gloom  and  horrors  overspread, 
Owes  its  appearance  to  thy  troubled  mind. 
Deaf  to  the  voice  of  truth,  to  reason  blind: 
'Tis  I  alone  that  can  the  film  remove 
That  dims  thy  sight,  and  make  yon  gloomy  grove 
Smile  with  immortal  fruits,  and  bloom  with  flow'rs 
Fairer  than  poet's  feign  of  Paphian  bow'rs. 
I  am  RELIGION,  whose  all-powerful  ray 
Beams  on  the  darken'd  mind  celestial  day; 
Points  out  the  path  that  leads  to  pure  delight; 
And  proves  this  truth — iVliatever  is  is  right .'" 

The  eminence  of  Sir  Joshua  was  now  so  high,  that 
the  quantity  of  complimentary  verses  which  were  ad- 
dressed to  him  would  fill  a  volume,  and  would  be  te- 
dious to  repeat ;  but  the  following  lines  I  cannot  omit, 
as  I  think  them  an  excellent  instance  of  the  mock 
heroic,  though  intended  as  very  serious,  and  very  ex- 
quisite. Surely  the  Genius  of  Affectation  is  never  so 
busy,  nor  triumphs  half  so  much,  as  when  he  attends 
at  the  elbow  of  his  favourite  poets,  and  makes  them 
speak  thus : 

"  Feel  ye 

What  Reynolds  felt  when  first  the  Vatican 
Unbarr'd  her  gates,  and  to  his  raptur'd  eye 
Gave  all  the  god-like  energy  that  flow'd 
From  Michael's  pencil" 


U 


140  MEMOIRS  OF 

The  affectation  in  tliese  lines  appears  still  more 
gross  when  we  recur  to  the  grand  simplicity  of  the 
character  of  inm  to  whom  they  alliule,  or  compare 
them  with  those  wiiich  were  last  recited. 

In  tlie  discourse  delivered  tliis  year,  (177^,)  on  the 
10th  of  Decemhcr,  Sir  Joshua  concluded  his  series  of 
remarks  begun  in  one  of  the  former  years. 

His  grand  object  in  tiiis  display  was  to  incite  the 
young  students  to  consider  the  attainment  of  the  higher 
excellencies  of  the  art  as  an  acquisition  of  the  first 
importance,  though  not  to  the  total  exclusion  of  a 
search  after  the  subordinate  qualitications;  which, 
however,  he  considered  as  but  of  minor  consequence  : 
at  the  same  time  warning  his  hearers,  tliat  caution  and 
circumspection  was  not  to  be  lost  sight  of  in  the  eager- 
ness of  pursuit. 

On  this  part  of  his  subject  he  particularly  noted, 
that  judgment  was  necessary  not  only  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  these  excellencies,  but  also  in  their  application  : 
for  though  many  would  bear  to  be  united,  and  some 
be  even  improved  from  the  union ;  yet  still  there  w  ere 
others  which,  though  perfect  in  themselves,  were  of  a 
nature  so  discordant  with  their  companions,  that  noth- 
ing but  incongruity  could  be  produced  by  their  mutual 
introduction. 

And  here  his  meaning  was  fully  exemplified  by  his 
illustrations :  for  laying  it  down  as  a  truth,  that  the 
expression  o^  passion  was  not  in  unison  with  jierfect 
beauty,^  all  the  passions  producing  some  degree  of  dis- 
tortion and  deformity,  even  in  the  most  beautiful  coun- 
tenances; so  those  that  attempted  to  preserve  beauty, 
where  strong  passions  ought  to  be  considered  as 
operating  powerfully  upon  the.  personages  represent- 
ed, must  inevitably  sacrifice  a  superior  excellence,  as 
Guido  has  done  in  many  instances,  particularly  in  his 
Judith,  Herodias,  Andromeda,  nay,  even  the  mothers' 
countenances  in  the  Slaughter  of  the  innocents,  which 
have,  thus,  little  more  expression  than  he  has  given 
to  his  '*  Venus  attired  by  the  Graces." 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  14( 

One  principle  which  he  had  horc  in  view  was  to 
guard  the  artist  against  the  effects  oF  that  false  criti- 
cism which  so  often  marks  the  writings  of  men  who 
are  not  of  tlie  profession,  who  being  unable  to  lind  out 
the  real  beauties  of  a  performance,  merely  fni<l  out 
that  which  they  are  before-liand  resolved  to  discover; 
and  therefore  not  only  praise  excellencies  which  can- 
not  with  propriety  exist  together,  but  even  dilate  upon 
the  expression  of  mixed  passions,  a  thing  which  his 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  hunuui  countenance  and 
Iiuman  heart  well  knew  to  be  a  thing  impossible. 

He  even  proved  his  position  from  the  theory  and 
practice  of  the  ancients,  who  always  described  their 
Jupiter  as  possessed  in  the  aggregate  of  all  tliose 
great  qualities  which  were  separately  enjoyed  by  sub- 
ordinate deities;  but  yet,  when  they  called  in  the  aid 
of  art  to  represent  him,  they  confined  his  character  to 
that  of  majesty  alone,  without  attempting  to  delineate 
the  others. 

At  this  part  of  his  discourse  he  took  the  opportuni- 
ty  of  shewing  how  much  the  great  Pliny  himself  re- 
sembled some  of  our  modern  connoisseurs,  when,  with 
something  like  the  cant  of  modern  criticism,  he  stated 
that  the  spectator  might  discover  no  less  than  three 
different  and  distinct  characters  in  a  statue  of  Paris, 
executed  by  the  famous  sculptor  Euphranor,  and  in 
which  wet'e  to  be  seen  the  dignity  of  a  judge  of  the 
goddesses,  the  lover  of  Helen,  and  the  conqueror  of 
Achilles ;  adding,  "  A  statue  in  which  you  endeavour 
to  unite  stately  dignity,  youthful  elegance,  and  stern 
valour,  must  surely  possess  none  of  tjiose  to  any  great 
degree."  After  this  he  adds,  what  will  be  best  ex- 
pressed in  his  own  words:  "  I  do  not  discourage  the 
younger  students  from  the  noble  attempt  of  uniting  all 
the  excellencies  of  art,  but  to  make  them  aware,  that, 
besides  the  difficulties  which  attend  every  arduous  at- 
tempt, there  is  a  peculiar  difficulty  in  the  choice  of 
the  excellencies  wdiich  ought  to  be  united.  I  wish  yoa 
to  attend  to  this,  that  you  may  try  yourselves,  when- 
ever you  are  capable  of  that  trial,  what  you  can_,  and 


143  MEMOIRS  OF 

what  you  cannot  do;  and  that  instead  of  dissipating 
yonr  natural  faculties  over  the  immense  field  of  possi- 
l)le  excellence,  you  may  choose  some  particular  walk 
in  whicli  you  may  exercise  all  your  powers;  in  order 
each  of  you  to  be  the  first  in  his  way." 

In  exemplification  of  the  judicious  choice  of  ex- 
cellence, he  observed,  tliat  Lodovico  Caracci,  in  par- 
ticular, was  well  acquainted  with  the  works  both  of 
Corregio  and  of  the  A^enetian  painters,  and  also  knew 
the  principles  by  whicli  tliey  produced  those  pleasing 
effects  which,  at  first  glance,  prepossess  us  so  much 
in  their  favour;  but  then  he  stated,  that  he  took  only 
as  much  from  each  as  would  embellish,  but  not  over- 
power, that  manly  strength  and  energy  of  style  which 
form  his  peculiar  character. 

In  speaking  o(  Stijles  he  also  shewed,  that  although 
the  ornamental  cannot,  with  propriety,  be  considered 
as  a  principal,  it  is  still  expedient  to  be  called  in  to 
soften  the  harshness  and  mitigate  the  severity  of  the 
great  style,  which  latter  being  that  of  the  greatest 
masters,  Michael  Angelo,  and  liaffaelle,  is  principal- 
ly to  be  found  in  fresco  paintings,  a  mode  of  execution 
which  excludes  attention  to  minute  elegancies. 

The  concluding  part  of  this  discourse  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  Jewel  of  Connoisseurs  :  for  in  it  they 
will  find  a  plain,  simple,  yet  delicate  investigation  of 
the  merits  of  those  two  great  masters,  as  well  as  of 
Salvator  Rosa,  Carlo  jMaratti,  Poussin,  llubens,  &c., 
an  investigation  founded  on  the  dictates  of  taste, 
genius,  and  sound  sense,  and  the  more  particularly 
valuable  from  being  cleared  of  all  the  tinsel  of  terms, 
which  only  serve  to  give  a  glare  to  ignorance. 

The  intimate  friendship  between  Dr.  Johnson  and 
Sir  Joshua  still  existed  in  its  full  force;  yet  so  flatter- 
ing were  the  compliments  which  Johnson  properly 
chose  to  pay  to  Mrs.  Thrale,  who  sincerely  esteemed 
liim,  that  wc  find  him  writing  to  her,  in  the  month  of 
February,  1773,  after  a  slight  illness,  for  her  appro- 
bation of  his  visiting  at  his  friend's  house :  he  says, 
<f<  I  have  an  invitation  to  dine  at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I43 

on  Tuesday;  may  I  except  it?  I  have  undertalven  to 
beg  from  you  the  favor  of  lending  Miss  Reynolds, 
Newton  on  the  Prophecies,  &c.''  This,  Jiowever, 
was,  probably,  mere  matter  of  compliment,  or  to  con- 
sult her  on  its  safety  in  respect  to  his  returning  health ; 
for  Sir  Joshua's  house  and  table  were  always  open  to 
his  friends,  with  invitation  or  without,  and  as  freely 
made  use  of. 

To  Goldsmith,  in  particular,  he  was  always  at- 
tentive; a  man  of  whom  it  has  been,  not  unaptly, 
said,  that  his  carelessness  of  conduct,  and  frivolity  of 
manners,  obscured  tlie  goodness  of  his  heart.  Mr. 
Cumberland,  in  his  own  Memoirs,  has  a  passage 
peculiarly  illustrative  of  this,  where  he  says,  thai 
"  Sir  .Toshua  Reynolds  was  very  good  to  him,  and 
would  have  drilled  him  into  better  trim  and  order  for 
society,  if  he  would  have  been  amenable ;  for  Rey- 
nolds was  a  perfect  gentleman,  had  good  sense,  great 
propriety,  with  all  the  social  attributes,  and  all  the 
graces  of  hospitality,  equal  to  any  man.  He  well 
knew  how  to  appreciate  men  of  talents,  and  how  near 
akin  the  Muse  of  Poetry  was  to  that  Art  of  which  he 
was  so  eminent  a  master.  From  Goldsmith  he  caught 
the  subject  of  his  famous  Ugolino;  what  aids  he  got 
from  others,  if  he  got  any,  were  worthily  bestowed^ 
and  happily  applied.'' 

Mr.  Cumberland,  however,  is,  perhaps,  ratlier  in- 
accurate in  his  assertion  respecting  the  painting  of 
"  Ugolino,"  which  was  finished  in  this  year,  ( 1773,) 
and  begun,  not  long  before,  as  an  historical  subject. 

The  fact  is,  that  this  painting  may  be  said  to  have 
been  produced  as  an  historical  picture  by  an  accident : 
for  the  head  of  the  Count  had  been  painted  previous  to 
the  year  1771?  and  finished  on  what  we  painters  call 
^'  a  half  length  canvas,"  and  was,  in  point  of  expres- 
sion, exactly  as  it  now  stands,  but  without  any  inten- 
tion, on  the  part  of  Sir  Joshua,  of  making  it  the  sub- 
ject of  an  historical  composition,  or  having  the  story 
of  Count  Ugolino  in  his  thoughts.  Being  exposed  in 
the  picture  gallery,  along  with  his  other  works,  it  was 


144  MExMOlRS  OF 

seen,  either  by  Mr.  Edmund  Burke,  or  Dr.  Gold- 
smith, I  am,  not  certain  which,  who  immediately 
exclaimed,  thatit  struck  him  as  being  the  precise  per- 
son, countenance,  and  expression  of  the  Count  Ugoli- 
no,  as  described  by  Dante  in  bis  "  Inferno." 

Tliis  affecting  description  is  given  in  the  thirty- 
third  Canto  of  the  first  part  of  his  Comedia,  where,  in 
his  supposed  passage  through  liell,  he  introduces 
Ugolino  gnawing  the  head  of  his  treacherous  and 
cruel  enemy,  the  Archbishop  Kuggiero,  and  then 
telling  his  own  sad  story  on  the  appearance  of  tlie 
poet. 

The  historical  facts  are  simply  these,  that  in  the 
latter  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  there  Avere  great 
intestine  divisions,  in  the  city  and  state  of  Pisa  in 
Italy,  for  the  sovereignty ;  divisions  which  gave  rise 
to  the  well  known  contests  of  Guelphs  and  Ghibel- 
lines.  The  former  of  these  consisted  of  two  parties,  at 
the  head  of  whicli  were  Visconti  and  Ugolino :  whilst 
the  Archbishop  Ruggiero  led  the  third. 

Between  this  latter  and  Ugolino  a  compromise  took 
place,  by  which  means  Visconti  and  his  partizans 
w^ere  driven  out;  when  Kuggiero,  finding  the  Guelph 
faction  considerably  weakened,  immediately  plotted 
against  his  quondam  friend,  already  elected  sovereign. 
The  mob  being  excited  by  the  crafty  priest  against 
their  new  prince,  the  unfortunate  Ugolino  was  over- 
powered,  and  he  and  his  two  sons,  together  with  two 
grandsons,  were  then  conveyed  to  the  city  prison, 
where  they  remained  some  months,  until  the  Pisans 
being  excommunicated  by  the  Pope,  they  became  so 
enraged,  that  they  determined  to  revenge  themselves 
on  the  unhappy  prisoners;  and  having  accordingly 
strongly  secured  and  barricadoed  the  doors  of  the 
dungeon,  they  threw  tlie  keys  of  the  prison  into  the 
river  Arno,  so  that  Ugolino  and  his  unhappy  offsprings 
perished. 

Tluis  far  the  historian — when  the  imagination  of 
the  poet  undertook  to  fill  up  the  awful  hiatus  between 
the  sealing  of  their  doom  and  the  last  moment  of  ex- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  j43 

piring  nadire  :  and  of  the  poet's  powers  I  am  liapjjy  to 
be  able  to  give  an  illustration,  to  the  follow  ing  beauti- 
ful translation  by  my  friend  Mr.  !Natlianiel  Howard, 
of  Plymouth,  Devon,  who  is  an  ornament  to  his 
country : 

"  La  Bocca  sallevo  dal  fiero  pasto 
Quel  peccator,"  &c. 

"  The  sinner  pausing  from  his  grim  repast, 
Wip'd  in  the  miscreant's  hair  his  gory  jaws, 
<  Mj  desperate  woe,  obedient  to  thy  will, 
I  now  relate,'  he  answered, '  tho'  with  pain 
Remembrance  wring  my  heart.    For  if  my  tale 
Should  to  this  traitor,  whom  I  gnaw,  produce 
The  fruit  of  infamy,  tho'  tears  gush  forth. 
Yet  will  I  speak. — I  know  not  whence  thou  art, 
Or  what  commission  brings  thee  to  this  gulf. 
But  speech,  in  truth,  bespeaks  thee  Tuscan  born. 
Know,  LTgolino  and  that  prelate  base, 
Ruggiero, meet  thy  presence;  mark  our  forms. 
I  need  not  mention  that  his  evil  mind 
First  wTong'd  my  confidence,  then  caused  my  death ; 
But  what  lies  undivulg'd  shall  now  be  heard, 
The  cruel  manner  of  my  lingering  doom : 
Then  shall  thou  learn  the  colour  of  his  guilt. 
Within  the  iron  dungeon,  which  still  bears 
*     The  name  of"  Famine"  since  my  dreadful  death, 
And  still  where  others  pine,  there  thro'  the  grate 
Shone  many  a  moon ;  and  oft  my  feverish  dreams 
Unveil'd  the  future  to  my  mental  view. 
This  priest,  I  dreamt,  was  leader  of  the  chase; 
Swift  to  the  Julian  mountain  with  his  whelps 
Hurried  the  wolf :  with  blood-hounds  gaunt  and  keen 
Lanfranchi  and  Sismondi,  and  the  chief 
Gualundi  follow'd.   Soon  the  course  was  spent; 
The  victim  and  his  infant  race  grew  faint. 
When  on  them  sprang,  I  thought,  the  savage  pack, 
And  with  their  tusks  transpierc'd  their  panting  sides. 
This  wak'd  me  ere  the  dawn,  when  in  their  sleep 
I  heard  my  children  groan  and  call  for  bread — 
Oh  cruel ;  should  no  pity  touch  thy  soul 
To  think  how  much  a  father's  heart  presag'd ; 
If  now  thou  shed'st  no  tears,  what  have  thy  eyes 
Been  us'd  to  weep  at? — Now  my  boys  awoke; 
The  hour  arriv'd,  when  each  expected  food. 


146  MEMOIRS  OF 

As  wonted,  would  be  brought  him  : — but  his  heart 

Mistrusted,  when  each  thought  upon  his  dream. 

And  1,0  horrible!  that  instant  heard 

The  dungeon-doors  below  more  firmly  lock'd — 

In  desperate  silence  on  my  sons  I  gaz'd, — 

I  could  not  weep — My  heart  was  turn'd  to  stone. 

The  little  victims  wept,  and  one  began, 

My  dear  Anselmo:  Father!  Why  tliat  look.' 

'  What  ails  my  father  ?'' — Ah !  I  could  not  weep, 

Nor  answer  all  that  day,  nor  yet  the  night. 

Till  on  the  world  another  morn  arose. 

As  faintly  thro'  our  doleful  prison  gleam'd 
The  tremulous  ray,  so  I  could  view  again 
Each  face,  on  which  my  features  were  imprest. 
Both  hands  I  gnaw'd  in  agony  and  rage. 
Sweet  innocents  they  thought  me  hunger  stung, 
And,  rising  on  a  sudden,  all  exclaimed, 
'  Father!  our  anguish  would  be  less  severe, 
*  If  thou  would'st  feed  on  us.  This  fleshly  vest 
'  Thou  did'st  bestow,  now  take  it  back  again,'— 
I  clieck'd  my  inward  nature,  lest  my  groans 
Should  aggravate  their  anguish.    Jill  were  mute 
That  bitter  day,  and  all  the  morrow.    Earth ! 
Why  did'st  thou  not,  obdurate  earth!  dispart.'' 
The  fourth  sad  morning  came,  when  at  my  feet 
My  Gaddo  fell  extended:  '  Help!'  he  cried, 
'  Can''st  thou  not  helj)  vie, father?'' — and  expired. 
80  withered  as  thou  see'st  me,  one  by  one, 
I  saw  my  children  ere  the  sixth  noon  die  : 
\nd,  seiz'd  with  sudden  blindness,  on  my  knees 
I  grop'd  among  them,  calling  each  by  name 
For  tlnee  days  after  they  were  dead. — At  last, 
Famine  and  death  closed  up  the  scene  of  woe. 

So  having  said,  with  dark  distorted  eyes, 
He  on  the  wretched  skull  infix'd  his  teeth, 
And  like  a  mastift" gnaw'd  the  solid  bone." 

After  this  exquisite  detail  by  the  poet,  the  subject 
was  taken  up  by  the  sculptor,  and  Richardson  in  his 
"  Science  of  a  Connoisseur/'  relates  that  Michael 
Angelo  Buonarotti  composed  abas-relief  of  the  Count 
sitting  with  his  four  children,  one  of  which  lay  dead 
at  his  feet :  over  their  heads  were  a  figure  to  represent 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I4.7 

Famine,  and  beneath  them  another  personifying  the 
river  Arno,  on  whose  banks  the  tragedy  was  acted. 

The  whole  subject  is  well  liandled  by  Richardson, 
and  may  be  read  with  pleasure,  as  relative  to  the 
picture,  although  written  long  before  the  idea  started 
by  Burke  was  adopted  by  Sir  Joshua,  who  imme- 
diately had  his  canvas  enlarged  in  order  that  he  might 
be  enabled  to  add  the  otiier  figures,  and  to  complete 
his  painting  of  the  impressive  description  of  tlie 
Italian  poet. 

The  picture  when  finished  was  bought  by  the  late 
Duke  of  Dorset  for  four  hundred  guineas;  and  it  has 
since  been  noticed  by  Dr.  Joseph  Warton.  who  in  his 
Essay  on  the  Genius  and  Writings  of  Pope,  intro- 
duces the  story  in  exemplification  of  some  pathetic 
passages  in  that  writer;  and  then  adds — *•*  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  whose  mind  is  stored  with  great  and  exalt- 
ed ideas,  has  lately  shown,  by  a  picture  on  this  sub- 
ject, how  qualified  he  is  to  preside  at  a  Royal  Acade- 
my, and  that  he  has  talents  that  ought  not  to  be 
confined  to  portrait  painting." 

Some  time  after  this,  his  pencil  gave  to  the  world 
another  historical  subject  of  great  celebrity,  the  Infant 
Jupiter,  now  the  property  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland. 

When  Goldsmitlrs  comedy  of  "  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer,''  was  to  be  brought  out  on  the  stage,  on  the 
15th  of  March  in  this  year,  he  was  at  a  loss  what 
name  to  give  it,  till  the  very  last  moment,  and  then, 
in  great  liaste,  called  it  *'  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  or 
the  Mistakes  of  a  Night."  Sir  Josliua,  who  disliked 
this  name  for  a  play,  offered  a  much  better  to  him, 
saying,  "  You  ought  to  call  it  the  Belle's  Stratagem, 
and  if  you  do  not  I  will  damn  it."  However,  Gold- 
smith chose  to  name  it  himself,  as  above;  and  Mrs. 
Cowley  has  since  given  that  name  to  one  of  her 
comedies. 

Goldsmith  was  in  great  anxiety  about  its  success, 
he  was  much  distressed  in  his  finances  at  tlie  time, 
and  all  his  hopes  hung  on  the  event;  and  at  the  din- 
ner preceding  the  representation  of  his  play,  his  mouth 

X 


148  MEMOIRS  OF 

became  so  parched  and  dry,  from  the  agitation  of  his 
mind,  that  he  was  unable  to  swallow  a  single  mouth- 
ful. Tlie  actors  themselves  had  great  doubts  of  its 
success;  but,  contrary  to  their  expectations,  the  play 
was  received  with  great  applause ;  Sir  Joshua  and  a 
large  party  of  friends  going  for  the  purpose  of  support- 
ing it  if  necessary.  The  dinner  ])arty,  wiiich  took 
place  at  the  Shakspeare,  is  humourously  described 
by  Cumberland.  Dr.  Johnson  took  the  head  of  the 
table,  and  there  were  present  the  Burkes,  Caleb 
Whitcford,  Major  Mills,  &c.  &c. 

I  remember  Dr.  Goldsmith  gave  me  an  order  soon 
after  this,  with  which  1  went  to  see  this  comedy ;  and 
the  next  time  I  saw  him  he  inquired  of  me  wJiat  my 
opinion  was  of  it.  I  told  him  that  I  would  not 
presume  to  be  a  judge  of  its  merits;  he  then  said, 
*•  Did  it  make  you  laugh?"  I  answered,  "  Exceed- 
ingly.'' "  Then/'  said  the  Doctor,  ^*  that  is  all  I 
require." 

One  day  Dr.  Johnson  and  Dr.  Goldsmith  meeting 
at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  table,  the  conversation 
turned  on  the  merits  of  that  well  known  tragedy, 
Otway's  Venice  Preserved,  which  Goldsmith  highly 
extolled,  asserting,  that  of  all  tragedies  it  was  the  one 
nearest  in  excellence  to  Shakspeare ;  when  Johnson, 
in  his  peremptory  manner,  contradicted  him,  and  pro- 
nounced that  there  were  not  forty  good  lines  to  be 
found  in  the  whole  play;  adding,  "  Pooh!  what  stuff 
are  these  lines  : — -^  What  feminine  tales  hast  thou  been 
listening  to,  of  unaired  shirts,  catarrhs,  and  tooth-ach 
got  by  thin  soled  shoes  ?'  " 

^'  True,"  replied  Goldsmith,  ^^  to  be  sure  that  is 
very  like  Shakspeare." 

Sir  Joshua  used  to  say,  that  he  thought  any  man 
of  tolerable  capacity  might  write  a  tragedy,  such  as 
an  audience  would  receive  from  the  stage  without 
objection;  but  that  it  required  a  real  genius  for 
humour,  together  with  considerable  taste,  to  write  a 
comedy.   The  remark  has  been  made  by  Sorbiere,  an 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  14^ 

eminent  French  physician,  who  gives  ample  reasons 
for  this  opinion,* 

A  few  persons  dining  at  Sir  Joshua  ReynoUls-g 
about  this  time,  of  whom  I  was  one,  in  the  course  of 
conversation  after  dinner  Sir  Joshua  spoke  of  Mr. 
Malone's  edition  of  Shakspeare,  which  was  then  ju«;t 
about  to  be  published.  He  said  it  was  such  a  work 
as  W'ould  render  it  totally  unnecessary  to  attempt  to 
improve  it  any  further,  as  Mr.  Malone  had,  with 
indefatigable  industry  and  the  deepest  research,  now 
explored  every  source  of  knowledge  from  which 
Shakspeare  might  have  had  any  means  of  getting 
assistance,  for  in  truth  it  had  been  the  prime  object  of 
his  pursuits,  and  the  business  of  his  whole  life  with 
intense  application. 

I  must  confess  honestly,  that  1  felt  a  little  degree 
of  irritation  at  hearing  this  vast  eulogium  on  a  work 

*  "  More  tragedies  than  comedies  are  produced.  Young  men 
first  make  an  attempt  at  tragedy;  not  being  able,  for  want  of 
knowledge  and  experience,  to  attempt  any  other  kind  of 
writing.  Their  hero  of  the  tragedy  is,  for  the  most  part,  a 
fictitious  character,  and  Phoebus  and  the  Muses  are  invoked  to 
fit  him  out  for  appearing.  On  the  contrary,  the  characters  of  a 
comedy  are  such  as  we  meet  with  daily  in  the  streets  at  every 
turn;  and  we  have  only  to  transcribe  their  words  and  actions. 
It  is  true,  that  those  we  esteem  the  most  excellent  painters 
are  not  frequently  the  best  copyists;  and  that  good  historians 
are  not  always  skilful  in  drawing  characters.  But,  perhaps,  this 
is  a  defect  in  them;  and,  to  speak  fairly,  the  painter  who  copies 
nature  exactly,  and  with  art,  is  surely  as  deserving  of  our  prai«e 
as  he  who  cannot  paint  after  nature,  but  looks  fpr  an  original  in 
his  caprice.  It  appears  that  comedy  is  the  most  difficult  of 
dramatic  works:  as  the  poet  imitates  characters  which  are  un- 
der the  observation  of  all,  and  whose  opinions  must  confirm  the 
likeness  of  the  portraiture.  The  style  of  comedy  is  less  arduous 
than  that  of  tragedy:  as  there  is  less  art  in  running  very  fast, 
and  skipping  up  and  down,  thau  in  a  regular  march  or  a  grace- 
ful dance.  Yet  it  is  not  so  difficult  to  soar  in  heroic  verse  as  to 
represent  common  life;  which  requires  a  steady  and  vigorous 
pencil." 

Samuel  Sorbiere,  an  eminent  physician  in  Paris,  in  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV,  and  patronized  by  Cardinal  Mazarin,  wa^  born  in 
the  year  1610,  and  died  in  1670, 


150  MEMOIRS  OF 

wliicb,  in  its  very  nature,  cannot  be  a  matter  requiring 
the  least  genius ;  neither  can  it  add  one  atom  to  the 
matchless  excellencies  of  that  captivating  poet,  and 
does  little  more  than  to  form  an  excuse  for  the  name 
of  the  commentator  being  handed  down  to  posterity 
attached  to  that  of  the  immortal  Shakspeare. 

I  rather  hastily  replied,  as  a  counteraction  to  the 
foregoing  speech  of  8ir  Joshua's,  •'  What  a  very 
despicable  creature  must  that  man  be  ^vho  thus 
devotes  himself  and  makes  another  man  his  God;" 
when  BosAvell,  w  ho  sat  at  my  elbow,  and  was  not  in 
my  thoughts  at  the  time,  cried  out  immediately,  "  Oh  ! 
Sir  Joshua,  then  tiiat  is  me!''  I  was  exceedingly 
sorry  when  he  took  it  to  himself,  and  excused  the 
speech  I  had  made  in  the  best  manner  I  was  able. 
However,  if  Bosvvell's  office  was  not  a  high  one,  the 
work  he  has  produced  by  it  is  much  more  original 
and  more  valuable  beyond  all  comparison,  as  very 
few  books  in  the  English  language  bid  fairer  for  im- 
mortality tiian  his  life  of  Dr.  Johnson. 

In  the  early  part  of  this  year  Sir  Joshua  took  a  trip 
w  ith  a  party  of  friends  to  Portsmouth,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  King's  reviewing  the  navy  there  :  and  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  summer  he  also  made  a  visit  to 
Plymouth,  the  reason  of  which  was  this,  that  having 
already  been  made  a  freeman  of  his  native  town  of 
Plyrapton,  this  mark  of  respect  was  followed  by  liis 
being  chosen  alderman  and  mayor  of  that  borough, 
generally  called  Plympton  Maurice,  or  EarFs  Plymp- 
ton,  to  distinguish  it  from  Plympton  St.  Mary's, 
formerly  a  convent  of  Benedictines,  about  half  a  mile 
distant,  the  abbot  of  which  was  lord  of  the  manor, 
and  sat  in  the  house  of  peers  after  the  dissolution  of 
religious  houses.  The  town  was  incorporated  by  a 
charter  granted  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
under  a  mayor,  recorder,  eight  aldermen,  or  principal 
burgesses,  who  are  called  common  councilmen,  a 
bailiff,  and  town  clerk,  &c. 

So  strongly  was  Sir  J^oshua  attached  to  tlie  place 
of  his  birth,  that  he  declared  that  this  circumstance 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  151 

gave  him  more  pleasure  than  any  other  honour  which 
he  tiad  received  during  his  life. 

On  this  occasion  he  presented  his  portrait,  painted 
by  himself,  to  the  corporation,  who  placed  it  in  the 
town  hall.  It  is  a  good  picture  with  a  light  sky  back 
ground,  and  in  his  academical  dress  as  doctor  of 
laws. 

There  is  another  portrait  of  him  painted  when 
young,  and  now  in  the  possession  of  T.  Lane,  Esq. 
of  Cofflett,  about  three  miles  from  Plympton.  In  this 
picture  he  holds  one  hand  over  to  shadow  his  eyes, 
an  attitude  often  chosen  by  painters  when  they  paint 
their  own  portraits. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Alcock,  vicar  of  Cornwood,  a  parish 
in  the  neighbourhood,  presented  to  Sir  Joshua  the 
following  distich  on  the  receipt  of  tliis  valuable 
present  to  the  corporation. 

"  Laudat  Romanus  Raphaelem,  Gr^ecus  Apellem, 
Plympton  Rejnolden  jactat,  utiique  parem." 

But  the  new  mayor,  though  perhaps  pleased  with  the 
compliment,  modestly  declared  that  he  thought  it 
would  be  assuming  too  much  honour  to  himself,  to 
have  it  affixed  to,  or  even  put  on  the  back  of,  the 
picture. 

The  following  elegant  letter  to  Sir  Joshua,  as  it 
relates  to  one  of  his  most  distinguished  performances, 
together  with  his  answer,  in  which  that  work  is 
described,  certainly  cannot  be  unacceptable  to  the 
reader. 


"  TO  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 
DEAR  SIR  JOSHUA, 

"  This  letter  will  be  delivered  to  you  by  Miss 
-,  who  intends  to  sit  to  you  with  her  two  sis- 


ters,  to  compose  a  picture,  of  which  I  am  to  have  the 


15^  MEMOIRS  OF  * 

honour  of  being  the  possessor.  I  wish  to  have  their 
portraits  together  at  full  leugth,  representing  sqrae 
emblamatical  or  historical  subject;  the  idea  of  which, 
and  the  attitudes  which  will  best  suit  their  forms, 
cannot  be  so  well  imagined  as  by  one  who  has  so  emi- 
nently distinguished  himself  by  his  genius  and  poetic 
invention.  Give  me  leave  to  mention  to  you  (notwith- 
standing I  am  well  assured  you  want  no  incitement  to 
make  your  works  complete,)  that  besides  the  advan- 
tage you  will  have  in  the  superiority  of  the  beauty 
and  elegance  of  those  subjects  which  no  doubt  will  of 
themselves  convey  a  degree  of  instruction,  you  will, 
I  hope,  find  that  these  young  ladies,  from  their  high 
opinion  of  your  powers,  will  not  spare  their  time,  iii 
order  to  render  this  picture  in  every  particular  a  most 
superior  production.  I  shall  add  the  honour  you  will 
acquire  in  conveying  to  posterity  the  resemblance  of 
three  sisters  so  distinguished  for  different  species  of 
beauty ;  and  what  1  flatter  myself  will  not  be  .the 
smallest  reason  for  particular  attention  to  this  work, 
the  great  obligation  you  will  confer  on  me  in  making 
it  perfect. 

'  "  I  am  with  great  esteem, 

^^  Dear  Sir  Joshua, 

''■  Your  very  sincere  and  humble  servant. 

DviUin,  May  27th,  1773." 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  wrote  in  reply,  a  few  months 
afterwards. 

Sir, 

^*  I  intended  long  ago  to  have  returned  you 
thanks  for  the  agreeable  employment  in  which  you 
have  engaged  me,  and  likewise  for  the  very  obliging 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I53 

manner  in  which  this  favor  was  conferred ;  but  imme- 
diately after  the  heads  were  finished,  I  was  enticed 
away  to  Portsmouth,  and  from  thence  to  Oxford, 
from  whence  I  am  but  just  returned ;  so  that  this  is  the 
first  quiet  minute  I  have  had  for  this  month  past; 
though  it  is  a  little  delayed  by  these  holidays,  it  will 
not,  upon  the  whole,  fare  the  worse  for  it,  as  I  am  re- 
turned with  a  very  keen  appetite  to  the  work.  This 
picture  is  the  great  object  of  ray  mind  at  present.  You 
have  been  already  informed,  I  have  no  doubt,  of  the 
subject  which  we  have  chosen ;  the  adorning  a  Term 
of  Hymen  with  festoons  of  flowers.  This  affords  suffi- 
cient employment  to  the  figures,  and  gives  an  oppor- 
tunity of  introducing  a  variety  of  graceful  historical 
attitudes.  I  have  every  inducement  to  exert  myself  on 
this  occasion,  both  from  the  confidence  you  have 
placed  in  me,  and  from  the  subjects  you  have  pre- 
sented to  me,  which  are  such  as  I  am  never  likely  to 
meet  with  again  as  long  as  I  live,  and  I  flatter  myself 
that,  however  inferior  the  picture  may  be  to  what  I 
wish  it,  or  what  it  ought,  it  will  be  the  best  picture  I 
ever  painted.   I  beg  leave  to  congratulate   you  and 

Mrs.  G ,  and  express  my  sincere  wishes  for 

that  perfect  happiness  to  which  you  are  both  so  well 
intitled. 

*'  I  am  with  great  respect,  &c. 

N  "  Joshua  Reynolds. 

"  I  shall  send  away  your  picture  (the  best  of  the 
two)  immediately ;  the  other  I  know  is  to  remain  here. 
I  have  forgot  to  what  place  it  is  to  be  sent." 

The  visit  to  Oxford,  mentioned  in  the  foregoing 
letter,  gained  an  additional  liouour  to  be  conferred 
upon  Sir  Joshua,  the  variety  of  whose  talents,  added 
to  the  eminence  he  had  acquired,  qualified  him  to 
share  the  honours  of  the  first  scientific  institutions^ 


^54  MEMOIRS  OF 

and  in  consequence  of  which  he  had  for  some  time 
before  the  present  period  been  admitted  to  tlie  Royal, 
Antiquarian,  and  Dilletante  Societies;  and  when  thte 
late  Earl  of  Guildford,  then  Lord  North,  was  in- 
stalled Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  in  the 
first  week  of  July  in  this  year,  Sir  Joshua  Avas,  at  tjie 
same  time,  admitted  to  the  honorary  degree  of  Doctor 
of  Civil  Law. 

On  that  day  fifteen  persons  only  were  admitted,  and 
it  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  Sir  Joshua  and  Dr. 
Bcatlie  were  the  only  two  who  were  distinguished  by 
an  encomium  from  Dr.  Vansittart,  the  Professor  of 
Civil  Law,  whose  duty  it  is  to  present  the  graduates 
to  the  Chancellor.  It  is  also  well  known  to  be  cus- 
tomary, when  the  graduate  bows  and  takes  his  seat, 
that  there  should,  on  particular  occasions,  be  a  clap- 
ping of  hands  in  the  theatre,  sometimes  loud,  and 
sometimes  but  faint;  on  this  occasion,  however,  it  is 
related,  that  those  two  were  the  only  personages  who 
received  any  marks  of  extraordinary  applause. 

There  is  a  remarkably  fine  allegorical  picture 
painted  by  Sir  Joshua,  representing  the  portrait  of 
Dr.  James  Beattie.  The  Doctor  is  in  his  university 
dress  as  Doctor  of  Laws,  with  his  volume  on  the  Im- 
mutability of  Truth  under  his  arm.  The  Angel  of 
Truth  is  going  before  him  and  beating  down  the 
Vices,  Envy,  Falsehood,  &c.  which  are  represented 
by  a  group  of  figures  fiilling  at  his  approach,  and  the 
principal  head  in  this  group  is  made  an  exact  likeness 
of  Voltaire.  When  Dr.  Goldsmith  called  on  Sir 
Joshua  and  saw  this  picture,  he  was  very  indignant  at 
it,  and  remonstrated  with  him,  saying,  ''  It  very  ill 
becomes  a  man  of  your  eminence  and  character,  Sir 
Joshua,  to  condescend  to  be  a  mean  flatterer,  or  to 
wish  to  degrade  so  high  a  genius  as  Voltaire  before  so 
mean  a  writer  as  Dr.  13eattie;  for  Dr.  Beattie  and  his 
book  together,  will,  in  the  space  of  ten  years,  not  be 
known  ever  to  have  been  in  existence,  but  your  alle- 
gorical picture,  and  the  fame  of  Voltaire,  will  live 
for  ever  to  your  disgrace  as  a  flatterer.'' 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  155 

This  picture  was  painted  in  the  year  1773,  and 
presented  to  Dr.  Beattie  l)y   8ir  Joshua,   \v!io  eiifcer- 
tained  a  great  friendship  for  the  Doctor,  whom   he 
esteemed   as   an   honest  liumhie  man  of  consi(h;rahlo 
abilities :  indeed,  it  forms  a  very  prominent  feature  in 
tlie  "  Life"  of  the  latter;  where  it  is  dwelt  on  with  an 
allowable  degree  of  complacency,   that   8tr  Joshua 
paid  him  much  attention  during  his  visits  to  London, 
(respecting  him  more  for  his  virtues  than  his  talents,) 
frequently  entertaining  him,  both  at  his  house  in  town, 
and   at  his   villa  on  Richmond  Hill,   testifying,  by 
every  means  in  his  power,  the  esteem  he  felt  for  him 
as  a  friend,  and  the  opinion  he  held   respecting  his 
writings ;   while,  as   Sir  William  Forbes   adds,  Dr. 
Beattie  "  6n  the  other  hand,  loved  Sir  Joshua,  for  the 
amiable  simplicity  of  his  manners  Pud  character,  and 
justly  admired  the  masterly  productions  of  his  pencil, 
as  well  as  duly  appreciated  his  merit  in  the  composi- 
tion   of  those    truly   classical   discourses   which    he 
delivered  to  the  students  in  the  Royal  Academy." 

The  gentleman  above  alluded  to  will,  I  have  no 
doubt,  excuse  me  in  this  instance  of  availing  myself  of 
some  particulars  in  his  work,  highly  honourable  to 
both  of  his  amiable  and  deceased  friends,  and  which 
refer  pointedly  to  the  present  part  of  the  subject.  Sir 
William  observes,  that  how  properly  Dr.  Beattie 
estimated  the  various  tiilents  of  Sir  Joshua,  may  be 
drawn  from  an  extract  of  his  Diary,  and  which  he 
transcribed  in  the  Doctor's  own  words,  because,  being 
a  private  record  merely  of  his  own  tisoughts,  it  may- 
be relied  on  as  speaking  the  genuine  language  of  his 
heart.  This  extract  is  dated  Sunday  the  i5th  of 
August,  and  says,  '•  W^e  proposed  (Dr.  and  Mrs.  B.) 
to  have  gone  to  Arno's  Crrove,  but  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds insisted  on  it,  that  we  should  stay  till  to-mor 
row,  and  partake  of  a  haunch  of  venison  with  him  to- 
day, at  his  house  on  Richmond  Hill.  Accordingly  at 
eleven,  Mrs.  Beattie,  Miss  Reynolds,  Mr.  Barretti, 
and  Mr.  Palmer,  set  out  in  Sir  Joshua's  coach  for 
Richmond.     At  twelve  he  and  I  went   in   a   post 

Y 


136  MEMOIRS  OF 

chaise,  and  l)y  the  way  paid  a  visit  to  the  Bishop  of 
Chester,  who  was  very  earnest  for  us  to  fix  a  day  for 
dining  with  him;  hut  1  could  not  fix  one  just  now,  on 
account  of  the  present  state  of  my  afiairs.  After  dining 
at  Riclimond,  we  all  returned  to  town,  ahout  eight 
o'clock.  This  day  I  had  a  great  deal  of  conversation 
with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  on  critical  and  philosophi- 
cal suhjects.  1  find  him  to  he  a  man,  not  only  of  excel- 
lent taste  in  painting  and  poetry,  but  of  an  enlarged  un- 
derstanding and  truly  philosophical  mind.  His  notions 
of  painting  are  not  at  all  the  same  with  those  that  are 
entertained  by  the  generality  of  painters  and  others. 
Artificial  and  contrasted  attitudes,  and  groupes,  he 
makes  no  account  of;  it  is  the  truth  and  simplicity  of 
nature  which  he  is  ambitious  to  imitate:  and  these,  it 
must  be  allowed,  he  possesses  the  art  of  blending  with 
the  most  exquisite  grace,  the  most  animated  expres- 
sion. He  speaks  with  contempt  of  those  who  suppose 
grace  to  consist  in  erect  position,  turned  out  toes,  or 
tlie  frippery  ol  modern  dress.  Indeed,  whatever  ac- 
count we  make  of  the  colouring  of  this  great  artist, 
(which  some  people  object  to,)  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
liim  the  praise  of  being  the  greatest  designer  of  any 
age.  In  his  pictures  there  is  a  grace,  a  variety,  an  ex- 
pression, a  simplicity,  which  I  have  never  seen  in  the 
works  of  any  other  painter.  His  portraits  are  distin- 
guished from  all  others,  by  this,  that  they  exhibit  an 
exact  imitation,  not  only  of  the  features,  but  also  of 
the  character  of  the  person  represented.  His  picture  of 
Garrick,  between  Tragedy  and  Comedy,  he  tells  me 
he  finished  in  a  week,''  &c.  &c.  This,  although  but 
an  aukward  description  of  Sir  Joshua's  character,  yet 
I  insert  to  shew  what  an  impression  his  talents  had 
made  on  the  simplicity  of  Beattie. 

Dr.  Beattie  lias  also  strongly  marked  his  high 
admiration  of  his  friend  in  his  Essay  on  Poetry  and 
Music,  where  he  joins  his  name  with  that  of  Raffaelle. 
In  this,  having  first  given  praise  to  both  for  their 
assuming  nature  as  their  model,  to  the  utter  exclusion 
of  fashion,  at  least  as  far  as  is  possible,  he  adds,  that 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I57 

•'  on  this  account  their  works  must  give  pleasure,  and 
appear  elegant  as  long  as  men  are  capable  of  forming 
general  ideas,  and  of  judging  from  them.  The  last 
mentioned  incomparable  artist  (meaning  Sir  Joshua,) 
is  particularly  observant  of  children,  whose  looks  and 
attitudes  being  less  under  the  control  of  art,  and  local 
manners,  are  more  characteristical  of  the  species  thnn 
those  of  men  and  women.  This  field  of  observation 
supplied  him  with  many  fine  figures,  particularly  that 
most  exquisite  one  of  Comedy,  struggling  for  and 
■winning  (for  who  can  resist  her?)  the  affections  of 
Garrick — a  figure  which  could  never  have  occurred  to 
the  imagination  of  a  painter  who  had  confined  his 
views  to  grown  persons,  looking  and  moving  in  all 
the  formality  of  polite  life — a  figure  which,  in  all 
ages  and  countries,  would  be  pronounced  natural  and 
engaging." 

To  all  these  testimonies  in  favor  of  Sir  Joshua,  Sir 
William  Forbes  adds,  from  his  own  pen,  this  elegant 
compliment:  ^^  To  that  great  artist,  and  excellent  man, 
whose  house  one  of  our  mutual  friends  has  well  de- 
nominated the  common  centre  of  union  for  the  great, 
the  accomplished,  the  learned,  and  the  ingenious,  I 
must  equally  pay  my  grateful  acknowledgments  for 
the  uninterrupted  friendship  with  which  he  honoured 
me,  as  well  as  for  an  introduction  to  the  notice  of  some 
distinguished  characters,  to  whom  I  should  not  other- 
wise have  had  the  means  of  being  known." 

The  progress  of  the  above  mentioned  celebrated 
picture  is  further  described  in  Dr.  Beattie's  Diary^, 
where  he  says,  "  August  16th,  (Monday,)  breakfasted 
with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  this  day  began  the 
allegorical  picture.  I  sat  to  him  five  hours,  in  which 
time  he  finished  my  head,  and  sketched  out  the  rest 
of  my  figure.  The  likeness  is  most  striking,  and  the 
execution  most  masterly.  The  figure  is  as  large  as 
life.  The  plan  is  not  yet  fixed  for  the  rest  of  the  pic- 
ture. Though  I  sat  five  hours,  I  was  not  in  the  least 
fatigued ;  for  by  placing  a  large  mirror  opposite  to  my 
face.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  put  it  in  my  power  to  see 


158  MEMOIRS  OF 

every  stroke  of  lils  pencil ;  and  I  was  greatly  enter- 
tained  to  observe  the  progress  of  the  work,  and  the 
easy  and  masterly  manner  of  the  arlist,  which  diilers 
as  much  from  that  of  all  the  oilier  painters  1  have  seen 
at  work,  as  tlie  execution  of  (iiardini  on  the  violin 
dilR'rs  from  that  of  a  common  fiddler.'' 

Ho  much  was  said  respeetiui^  tlie  allegorical  mean- 
ing of  Dr.  lieattie's  picture  at  Ihe  time,  that  I  may 
l>e  permitted  to  take  some  further  notice  of  it  ;  partic- 
ularly as  it  gave  rise  to  attacks  u[ton  Sir  Joshua,  not 
only  as  to  his  judgment  in  its  concejition,  hut  as  to  his 
prudence  and  propriety  in  making  peisonal  allu- 
sions. 

Whilst  it  was  yet  in  its  progress,  Mrs.  Montague 
wrote  to  lieattie  on  the  subject,  saying,  ''  1  am  deliglU- 
cd  with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  plan,  and  do  not  doubt 
but  he  will  make  a  very  noble  ]>icture  of  it.  J  class 
Sir  Joshua  with  the  greatest  geniuses  that  have  ever 
appeared  in  the  art  of  painting;  and  I  wish  he  was 
employed  by  the  public  in  some  great  work  that  would 
do  honour  to  our  country  in  future  ages.  He  lias  the 
spirit  of  a  Givcian  artist.  The  Athenians  did  not  em- 
j>loy  sucii  men  in  painting  portraits  to  place  over  a 
chimney,  or  the  door  of  a  private  cabinet.  I  long  to 
see  the  picture  he  is  now  designing ;  virtue  and  truth 
are  subjects  worthy  of  the  artist  and  the  man.  He  has 
an  excellent  moral  character,  and  is  most  pleasing  and 
amiable  in  society;  and  with  great  talents  has  uncom- 
mon humility  nud  gentleness.*' 

Sir  William  Forbes  enters,  indeed,  more  particu- 
larly into  the  subject;  and,  in  addition  to  my  own 
testimony,  that  Sir  Joshua  meant  not  personally  to 
ofl'end  any  one  by  the  composition,  (though  he  was 
not  oifended  himself  at  some  likeness  being  discover- 
ed, as  I  shall  shew  by  a  letter  in  a  subsequent  part  of 
this  Memoir,)  I  shall  give  part  of  his  observations  on 
this  point.  He  says,  •'*  In  this  inestimable  piece, 
whicff  exhibits  an  exact  resemblance  of  Dr.  Beattie's 
countenance,  at  that  period,  he  is  represented  in  the 
govvn  of  Doctor  of  Laws,  with  which  he  was  so  re 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I59 

cently  invested  at  Oxford.  Close  to  the  portrait,  the 
artist  has  introduced  an  angel,  holding;  in  one  hand  a 
pair  of  scales,  as  if  weighing  Truth  in  the  balance, 
and  with  the  other  hand  pnsliing  down  three  hideous 
figures,  supposed  to  represent  Sophistry,  Scepticism, 
and  Inlidelity;  in  allusion  to  Dr.  Beattie^s  Essay  on 
Truth,  which  had  been  the  foundation  of  all  his 
fame,  and  of  all  the  distinction  which  had  been  paid 
him. 

'*  The  likeness  of  Br.  Beattie  was  most  striking, 
and  nothing  can  exceed  the  beauty  of  the  angel.  The 
whole  composition,  as  well  as  execution,  is  in  tiie  very 
best  manner  of  that  inimitable  painter,  and  it  has  had 
the  good  fortune,  not  always  the  case  with  Sir 
Joshua's  pictures,  masterly  as  they  are  in  every  other 
respect,  of  i)erfectly  preserving  the  colouring,  wliich 
is  as  beautiful  at  the  distance  of  upwards  of  thirty 
years  as  it  was  at  first,  with  as  much  of  mellowness 
only  as  one  could  desire. 

"  Of  this  admirable  performance,  Sir  Joshua  was 
pleased  to  make  Dr.  B.  a  present,  of  w  hich  he  was 
very  justly  proud.  He  preserved  it  with  the  utmost 
care,  keeping  it  always  covered  with  a  green  silk  cur- 
tain, and  left  it  to  his  niece,  Mrs.  Glenuie.'' 

A  mezzotinto  print  has  been  done  from  it,  and 
there  is  also  a  very  liandsome  engraving  from  it,  in 
Forbes's  Life  of  Beattie;  and  that  writer  adds,  "  Be- 
cause one  of  these  figures  was  a  lean  figure,  (alluding 
to  the  subordinate  ones  introduced,)  and  the  other  a 
fat  one,  people  of  lively  imaginations  pleased  them- 
selves with  finding  in  them  the  portraits  of  Voltaire 
and  Hume.  But  Sir  Joshua,  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
had  no  such  thought  when  he  painted  those  figures." 

It  is  a  curious  circumstance,  too,  that  Dr.  Beattie 
either  mistook  the  allegorical  design  himself,  or  else 
gave  it  intentionally  another  meaning,  perhaps  out  of 
modesty,  for  he  says  in  one  of  his  letters,  that  the 
figures  represent  Prejudice,  Scepticism,  and  AWy, 
who  are  shrinking  away  from  the  light  of  the  sun  that 
beams  on  the  breast  of  the  ans:el  1 


160  MEMOIRS  OF 

Of  the  small  villa,  already  meiitioued  in  Dr. 
Beattie's  Diary,  \vhich  Sir  Joshua  built,  for  his  re- 
creation, on  Richmond  Hill,  Sir  William  Chambers 
was  the  architect;  but  not  that  it  was  intended  to 
make  any  display  of  taste  in  the  building,  for  con- 
venience alone  was  consulted  in  it.  In  the  summer 
season  it  was  the  frequent  custom  of  Sir  Joshua  to 
dine  at  this  place  with  select  parties  of  his  friends.  It 
happened  some  little  time  before  he  was  to  be  elected 
Mayor  of  Plympton,  as  already  mentioned,  tliat  one 
day,  after  dining  at  the  house,  himself  and  his  party 
toak  an  evening  walk  in  Richmond  Gardens,  when, 
very  unexpectedly,  at  a  turning  of  one  of  the  avenues, 
they  suddenly  met  tlie  King,  accompanied  by  a  part 
of  the  Royal  Family;  and  as  his  Majesty  saw  him,  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  withdraw  without  being 
noticed.  The  King  called  to  him,  and  immediately 
entered  into  conversation,  and  told  him  that  he  had 
been  informed  of  the  office  tiiat  he  was  soon  to  be  in- , 
vested  with,  that  of  being  made  the  INIayor  of  his  na- 
tive town  of  Plympton.  Sir  Joshua  was  astonished 
that  so  minute  and  inconsiderable  a  circumstance, 
which  was  of  importance  only  to  himself,  should  have 
come  so  quickly  to  the  knowledge  of  the  King;  he 
assured  his  Majesty  of  its  truth,  saying  that  it  was  an 
honour  which  gave  him  more  pleasure  than  any  other 
he  had  ever  received  in  his  life,  and  then,  luckily  re- 
collecting himself,  added,  "  excepting  that  which 
your  Majesty  was  graciously  pleased  to  bestow  upon 
me;"  alluding  to  his  knightliood. 

About  this  period,  and  towards  the  latter  end  of 
1773?  a  circumstance  arose  which  promised  to  be 
highly  beneficial  to  the  art,  but  which  unfortunately 
did  not  fulfil  its  early  promises. 

The  chapel  of  Old  Somerset-House,  which  had 
been  given  by  his  Majesty  to  the  Royal  Academy, 
was  mentioned  one  evening  at  the  meeting,  as  a  place 
which  offered  a  good  opportunity,  of  convincing  the 
public  at  large  of  the  advantages  that  would  arise 
from  ornamenting  cathedrals  and  churches  with  the 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I6l 

productions  of  the  pencil;  productions  which  might 
be  useful  in  their  eifect,  and  at  the  same  time  not 
likely  to  give  offence  in  a  Protestant  country.  The 
idea  was  therefore  started,  that  if  the  members  should 
ornament  this  chapel,  the  example  might  thus  afford 
an  opening  for  the  introduction  of  the  art  into  other 
places  of  a  similar  nature,  and  which,  as  it  was  then 
stated,  would  not  only  present  a  new  and  noble  scene 
of  action,  that  mii;;ht  become  highly  ornamental  to  the 
kingdom,  but  would  be,  in  some  measure,  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  future  labour  of  the  numerous  stu- 
dents educated  under  the  auspices  of  the  Royal 
Academy. 

All  the  members  were  struck  with  the  propriety, 
and  even  with  the  probability  of  success  which  at- 
tended the  scheme ;  but  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  in  par- 
ticular, immediately  took  it  up  on  a  bolder  plan, 
and  offered  an  amendment,  saying,  that  instead  of  the 
chapel,  they  should  fly  at  once  at  higher  game,  and 
undertake  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  The  grandeur  and 
magnificent  liberality  of  this  idea  immediately  gained 
the  suffrages  and  plaudits  of  all  present,  and  the  Pres- 
ident was  empowered  to  make  the  proper  application 
to  the  Dean  and  Chapter;  an  application  which  was 
immediately  acceded  to  on  their  part.  At  that  time 
Dr.  Newton,  Bishop  of  Bristol,  was  the  Dean  of  St. 
Paul's,  who  was  a  strong  advocate  in  favor  of  this 
scheme. 

A  meeting  of  the  Academy  then  took  place,  when 
six  artists  were  chosen  for  the  attempt;  these  were  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  Mr.  West  the  present  President, 
Barry,  Dance,  Cipriani,  and  Angelica  Kauffman. 

The  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts  and 
Manufactures  also  took  up  the  business,  and  added 
four  artists  to  the  original  number. 

The  subject  which  Sir  Joshua  proposed  to  execute, 
was  that  of  the  Virgin  and  Christ  in  the  Manger,  or 
Nativity ;  but  the  whole  plan  was  set  aside  in  conse- 
quence of  Dr.  Terrick,  then  Bishop  of  London, 
having  refused  his  consent. 


iQ2  MEMOIRS  OF 

Tills  lias  been  noticed  by  Biirry,  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters, when  he  says,  "  Sir  Joshua.  Reynolds,  who  had 
undertaken  the  management  of  this  business,  informed 
us  last  Monday,  the  day  after  his  return  from  Plymp- 
ton,  where  he  was  chosen  mayor,  that  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  and  IVishop  of  London  had  never  given 
any  consent  to  it,  and  that  all  thoughts  about  it  mnst 
consequently  drop." 

At  that  time  all  sculptures  were  also  prohibited 
from  that  cathedral,  for  Dr.  Newton  the  Dean,  who 
died  soon  after,  left  an  injunction  in  his  will  that  a 
monument  to  his  memory  should  be  erected  in  that 
church  if  possible,  which  was  to  cost  five  hundred 
pounds,  with  the  hope  of  introducing  the  arts  into  that 
cathedral  ;  this  was  denied  to  the  family,  and  his 
monument,  executed  by  Banks  the  Sculptor,  and  a 
very  fine  one,  was  then  placed  in  St.  Bride's  church, 
of  which  Newton  was  the  Rector,  according  to  his 
order,  in  case  of  a  refusal  of  his  first  request. 

I  believe  it  was  in  this  year  that  he  painted  that 
portrait  of  himself,  a  half  length,  now  in  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  which  has  a  cap,  and  the  gown  of  his 
honorary  degree  at  Oxford.  In  this  picture  is  intro- 
duced the  bust  of  Michael  Angelo,  whose  works  he 
always  contemplated,  and  spoke  of,  with  enthusiasm  : 
this  is  nearly  the  same  dress  in  which  he  has  repre- 
sented himself  in  several  others,  one  of  them  sent  (o 
Florence,  and  the  other,  a  three-quarter,  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  Duke  of  Rutland. 

In  this  year  also  it  was,  that  the  Literary  Club, 
which  owed  its  origin  in  a  great  measure  to  him,  was 
enlarged  by  the  addition  of  two  valuable  members; 
the  late  Earl  of  Charlemont,  and  David  Garrick : 
after  which  some  others  were  admitted  to  tliis  select 
circle  of  friends. 

So  much  was  Sir  Joshua  now  admired  and  esteem- 

*ed,    that    his    acquaintance    was    considered   as   ao 

honour,  and  his  name  as  a  passport;   and  the  latter 

was  eagerly  sought  after  even  by  those  who  wished  to 

introduce  the  eflorts  of  literature  to  the  world. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  £63 

A  very  handsome  compliment  was  paid  to  him  at 
this  pei-iod,  by  the  Editor  of  Richardson's  ^'  Theory 
of  Painting/'  who  dedicated  this  work  to  the  Presi- 
dent. 

"  Sir, 

''  A  NEW  and  improved  edition  of  the  works  of 
Jonathan  Richardson  cannot  be  inscribed  with  so 
much  propriety  to  any  body,  as  to  you.  The  author 
has  in  his  '•  Theory  of  Painting,''  discoursed  with 
great  judgment  on  the  excellencies  of  this  divine  art, 
and  recommended  the  study  of  it  with  a  warmtii 
approaching  to  enthusiasm.  His  ideas  are  noble,  and 
his  observations  learned.  I  am  emboldened  to  say  this, 
from  a  conversation  which  I  had  the  honour  to  have 
with  you  on  this  subject. 

"  Ilad  Richardson  lived  to  see  the  inimitable  pro- 
ductions of  your  pencil,  he  would  have  congratulated 
his  country  on  the  prospect  of  a  School  of  Painting 
likely  to  contend  successfully  with  those  of  Italy. 

'^  At  the  same  time,  he  would  liave  confessed,  that 
your  admirable  discourses  would  have  rendered  his 
own  writings  less  necessary. 


I  am,  with  the  greatest  respect,"  &c.  &c. 


In  the  early  part  of  177'!'?  a  resolution  was  entered 
into  by  the  Society  of  Arts,  that  a  series  of  Historical 
or  Allegorical  pictures  should  be  painted  by  the  first 
artists  in  the  kingdom,  to  decorate  their  new  room  in 
the  Adelphi.  The  plan  proposed  was,  that  there 
should  be  eight  historical  and  two  allegorical;  the 
subjects  of  the  former  to  be  taken  from  tiie  British 
Annals. 

It  was  also  proposed,  that  the  profits  arising  from 
the  exliibitioa  of  those  works,  for  a  limited  time, 
should  be  appropriated  to  the  remuneration  of  the 
artists  employed.  The  historical  painters  chosen, 
were    Sir   Joshua    Reynolds,   Angelica   Kauffman, 


iGjj  ISIE.MOIRS  OF 

]\tess.  West,  Cipriani,  Barry,  Wright,  Mortimer,  and 
Dance;  whilst  the  allegorical  designs  were  to  have 
been  executed  hy  Penny  and  Romney.  Sir  Joshua, 
liowevcr,  after  some  delihoration,  thought  proper  to 
decline  the  proposal;  and  the  rooms  have  been  since 
decorated,  as  is  well  knoAvn,  by  Barry  alone. 

This  latter  artist  had  now  been  returned  some  time 
from  Italy,  and  notwithstanding  the  Friendship  always 
expressed  and  shewn  towards  him  by  Sir  Joshua,  he 
seems  to  have  been  actuated  in  his  conduct  towards 
him,  in  several  instances,  by  a  capricious  envy,  for 
which  Sir  Joshua  nover  gave  him  any  cause,  but 
■which  may,  perhaps,  have  arisen  from  a  petty  jealousy 
at  Sir  Joshua's  having  painted  a  portrait  of  Burke  for 
bis  friend  Mr.  Thrale. 

This  dispute,  for  such  it  was,  at  least  on  the  part 
of  Barry,  has  been  noticed  by  Barry's  biographer : 
and  though  I  cannot  agree  with  him  in  part  of  his 
observations,  yet  1  shall  here  give  the  whole  passage 
as  explanatory  of  the  occurrence.  In  the  life  prefixed 
to  his  works,  it  is  said,  that  ^'  it  may  be  necessary  to 
premise,  that  about  this  time  a  kind  of  ill  humour  had 
possessed  Barry,  in  consequence  of  the  extreme  inti- 
macy of  the  Burkes  with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  which 
led  him  to  suppose  that  those  friends  overlooked  his 
merits  to  aggrandize  Sir  Joshua's.  There  might  be 
(for  those  tilings  are  common  to  frail  human  nature) 
some  envy  entertained  by  Barry  towards  Sir  Joshua, 
for  his  respectable  connections  and  his  splendid  mode 
of  entertaining  them,  and,  perhaps,  some  little  jealousy 
in  the  mild  Sir  Joshua  towards  him,  for  a  reputation 
that  was  rising  to  eclipse  or  outrun  his  own. 

^^  Whatever  might  be  the  cause,  we  see  Barry 
standing  upon  a  point  of  silly  etiquette  with  the  man 
of  all  others  in  the  world  the  most  honoured  and 
loved,  and  in  a  way  to  endanger  the  imputation  of 
ingratitude,  had  it  not  been  for  the  dignified  modera- 
tion displayed  by  Mr.  Burke  on  the  occasion." 

This  is  an  allusion  to  a  very  curious  correspondence 
which  took  place  at  this  period  between  Burke  and 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I6p 

BaiTj,  respecting  the  neglect  of  the  latter  in  executing 
a  portrait  of  his  patron.  The  correspondence  is  pre- 
served in  Barry's  works;  and  I  am  of  opinii)n,  that 
whoever  reads  it,  will  agree  with  me,  tliat  there  was  no 
necessity  for  accusing  Sir  Joshua  of  feeling  jealousy 
at  Barry's  rising  fame,  when  Barry's  own  conduct, 
arising  from  the  waywardness  of  his  own  feeVmgs,  will 
easily  account  for  his  feeling  sore  respecting  Sir 
Joshua. 

Indeed  his  biograplier's  own  confession  of  his 
envious  sensations,  is  enough  to  preclude  the  necessi- 
ty  of  seeking  for  any  other  cause:  and,  I  trust,  that 
the  numerous  instances  which  I  shall  yet  have  oc- 
casion to  produce  of  Sir  Joshua's  professional  suavity 
and  feelings,  both  in  theory  and  in  practice,  will  do 
away  any  impression  which  the  foregoing  passage 
might  have  excited  to  his  prejudice. 

On  the  22i\  of  February  in  this  year,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Dr.  Beattie, 
which  I  adduce  as  a  fair  specimen  of  his  epistolary 
powers : 

"  I  sit  down  to  relieve  my  mind  from  great  anxiety 
and  uneasiness,  and  I  am  sorry  when  I  say,  tliat  this 
proceeds  from  not  answering  your  letter  sooner.  This 
seems  very  strange,  you  will  say,  since  the  cause  may 
he  so  easily  removed ;  but  the  truth  of  the  matter  is,  T 
waited  to  be  able  to  inform  you,  that  your  picture  was 
finished,  which,  however,  1  cannot  now  do. 

"  I  must  confess  to  you,  that  when  I  sat  down,  I 
did  intend  lo  tell  a  sort  of  a  white  lie,  that  it  was 
finished;  but  on  recollecting  that  I  was  writing  to  the 
author  of  truth,  about  a  picture  of  truth,  I  felt  that  I 
ought  to  say  nothing  but  the  truth.  The  truth  then  is, 
that  the  picture  probably  will  be  finished  before  you 
receive  this  letter;  for  there  is  not  above  a  day's  work 
remaining  to  be  done, 

^'  Mr.  Hume  has  heard  from  somebody  that  he  is 
introduced  in  the  picture  not  much  to  his  credit ;  there 
is  only  a  figure  covering  his  face  with  his  hands, 
which  they  may  call  *  Hume,'  or  any  body  else ;  it  is 


166  MEMOIRS  OF 

true  it  has  a  lolerable  broad  ])ack.    As  for  Voltaire,  I 
intended  he  should  be  one  of  the  groupe. 

^•'  I  intended  to  write  more,  but  I  liear  the  postman's 
bell.  Dr.  Johnson^  who  is  with  me  now,  desires  his 
compliments.'' 

This  mifortnnate  picture,  which  seems  doomed  to 
have  excited  mistaken  displeasure,  was  exhibited  in 
the  year  177^  j  ^n''  Mrs.  Montague  says  of  it,  in  a 
letter  to  Beattie,  ''  Your  portrait  is  in  the  Exhibition ; 
it  is  very  like,  and  the  piece  worthy  of  the  pencil  of 
Sir  Joshua,''  Some  others,  however,  wore  not  so 
pleased  with  it  as  the  lady  seemed  to  be;  for  Beattie. 
himself,  in  a  letter  written  to  her  on  the  S7th  of 
May,  in  that  year,  observes,  '^  Mr.  jNlason  seems  now 
to  be  tolerably  reconciled  to  the  subscription,  but  he 
lias  found  a  new  subject  of  concern,  in  this  allegorical 
picture  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  which  he  thinks  can 
hardly  fail  to  hurt  my  character  in  good  earnest.  I 
know  not  certainly  in  what  liglit  Mr.  Mason  considers 
this  picture;  but  so  far  as  I  have  yet  heard,  he  is 
singular  in  his  opinion. 

"  If  Mr.  Gray  had  done  me  the  honour  to  address 
an  ode  to  me,  and  speak  in  high  terms  of  my  attack  on 
the  sceptics,  my  enemies  might  have  ])lamed  him  for 
bis  partiality,  and  the  world  might  have  thought  that 
he  had  employed  his  muse  in  too  mean  an  oflRce;  but 
would  any  body  have  blamed  me?  If  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  thinks  more  favourably  of  me  than  I 
deserve,  (which  he  certainly  does,)  and  if  he  enter- 
tains the  same  favourable  sentiments  of  my  cause, 
which  I  wish  him  and  all  the  world  to  entertain,  I 
should  be  glad  to  know  from  Mr.  Mason,  w  hat  there 
is  in  all  this  to  fix  any  blame  on  my  character?  Indeed 
if /had  planned  this  picture,  and  urged  Sir  Joshua  to 
paint  it,  and  paid  him  for  his  trouble,  and  then  have 
solicited  admittance  for  it  into  the  Exhibition,  then  the 
world  would  have  had  good  reason  to  exclaim  against 
ine  as  a  vain  coxcomb;  but  I  am  persuaded,  that  no- 
body will  ever  suspect  me  of  this,  for  nobody  can  do 
so,  without  first  supposing  that  I  am  a  fool." 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  l6y 

Of  this  subject,  liowever,  1  presume  my  readers  will 
think  I  have  given  them  enough ;  1  shall,  tiierefore, 
revert  to  another  friend  of  Sir  Joshua's,  poor  Gold- 
smith, who  left  this  world  on  the  4th  of  April,  1774; 
the  first  too  of  those  on  whom  the  epitaphs  had  been 
so  playfully  written,  as  I  have  before  alluded  to  in 
another  place. 

Just  before  his  death,  he  had  nearly  completed  a 
design  for  the  execution  of  an  "  Universal  Dictionary, 
of  tiie  Arts  and  Sciences.'^  Of  this  he  had  published 
the  Prospectus,  or,  at  least,  had  distributed  co|)ies  of 
it  amongst  his  friends  aud  acquaintances.  It  did  not 
meet  with  any  warm  encouragement,  however,  from 
the  booksellers,  although  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  John- 
son, Grarrick,  and  several  otiiers  of  his  literary 
connections  had  promised  him  their  assistance  on 
various  subjects :  and  the  design  was,  I  believe, 
entirely  given  up  even  previous  to  his  demise. 

In  the  Dedication  of  his  '''  Deserted  AHllage''  to 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  already  noticed,  Goldsmith 
alludes  to  the  death  of  his  eldest  brother,  Heury, 
tiie  clergyman ;  aud  his  various  biographers  record 
another,  x\Iaurice,  who  was  a  younger  brother,  and  of 
whom  it  is  stated,  by  Bishop  Percy,  that  having 
been  bred  to  no  business,  he,  upon  some  occasion, 
complained  to  Oliver  that  lie  found  it  difficult  to  live 
like  a  gentleman.  To  this  Oliver  wrote  him  an  answer, 
begging  that  he  would,  without  delay,  quit  so  unprofit- 
able a  trade,  and  betake  himself  to  some  handicraft 
employment.  Maurice  wisely  as  the  Bishop  adds, 
took  the  hint,  and  bound  himself  apprentice  to  a 
cabinet-maker,  and  when  out  of  his  indentures  set  up 
in  business  for  himself,  in  which  he  was  engaged 
during  the  viceroyalty  of  the  late  Duke  of  Rutland  ; 
and  his  shop  being  in  Dublin,  he  was  noticed  by  Mr. 
Orde,  since  Lord  Bolton,  the  Lord  Lieutenant's 
Secretary,  who  recommended  him  to  the  patronage  of 
the  Duke,  out  of  regard  to  the  memory  of  his  brother. 

In  consequence  of  this,  he  received  the  appointment 
of  inspector  of  licences  in  that  metropolis,  aud  vv'as 


108  MEMOIRS  OF 

also  employed  as  mace  bearer,  by  the  Royal  Irish 
Academy,  then  just  established.  Both  of  these  places 
were  compatible  with  his  business :  and  in  the  former 
he  i;ave  [noof  of  great  integrity  by  detecting  a  fraud 
committed  on  the  revenue  in  his  department;  and  one 
by  which  he  himself  might  liave  profited,  if  lie  had  not 
been  a  man  of  principle.  He  has  now  been  dead  not 
more  than  fifteen  years  ;  I  enter  more  particularly  into 
his  history,  from  having  seen  the  following  passage 
in  one  of  Olivers  letters  to  him  :  *'  You  talked  of  being 
my  only  brother — I  don't  understand  you.  Where  is 
Charles?" 

This,  indeed,  was  a  question  which  Maurice  could 
not  answer  then,  nor  for  many  years  afterwards ;  but 
as  the  anecdote  is  curious,  and  I  have  it  from  a  friend 
on  whose  authority  I  can  rely,  I  shall  give  it  a  place 
here  nearly  in  his  own  words. 

Aly  fiiend  informed  me,  that  whilst  travelling  in 
the  stage  coach  towards  Ireland,  in  the  autumn  of 
1701j  he  was  joined  at  Oswestry  by  a  venerable  look- 
ing gentleman,  who,  in  the  course  of  the  morning, 
mentioned  that  his  name  was  Goldsmith ;  when  one 
of  the  party  observed,  that  if  he  was  going  to  Ireland, 
tliat  name  would  be  a  passport  for  him.  The  stranger 
smiled,  and  asked  the  reason  why?  to  which  the  other 
replied,  that  the  memory  of  Oliver  was  embalmed 
amongst  his  countrymen.  A  tear  glistened  in  the 
strangers  eye,  who  immediately  answered,  "  I  am 
his  brother."  The  gentleman  who  had  first  made  the 
observation  on  the  name,  looked  doubtingly,  and  said, 
*'  He  has  but  one  brother  living ;  I  know  him 
well.*'  "  True,"  replied  the  stranger,  "  for  it  may  be 
said  that  I  am  ri'>en  from  the  dead,  having  been  for 
many  years  supposed  to  be  no  longer  in  the  land  of 
the  living.  I  am  Charles  the  youngest  of  the  family. 
Oliver  I  know  is  dead ;  but  of  Henry  and  Maurice  I 
know  nothing." 

On  being  informed  of  various  particulars  of  his 
family,  the  stranger  then  told  his  simple  tale  ;  which 
was,  that  having  heard  of  his  brother  Noll  mixing  in* 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I69 

the  first  society  in  London,  he  took  it  for  granted  that 
liis  fortune  was  made,  and  that  he  could  soon  make  a 
brother's  also:  he  therefore  left  home  without  notice; 
but  soon  found,  on  his  arrival  in  London,  that  the 
picture  he  had  formed  of  his  brother's  situation  was 
too  highly  coloured ;  that  Noll  would  not  introduce 
him  to  his  great  friends,  and,  in  fact,  that,  although 
out  of  a  jail,  he  was  also  often  out  of  a  lodging. 

Disgusted  with  this  entrance  into  high  life,  and 
ashamed  to  return  home,  the  young  man  left  London 
without  acquainting  his  brother  with  his  intentions,  or 
even  writing  to  his  friends  in  Ireland ;  and  proceeded, 
a  poor  adventurer,  to  Jamaica,  where  he  lived,  for 
many  years,  without  ever  renewing  an  intercourse  with 
his  friends,  and  by  whom  he  was,  of  course,  supposed 
to  be  dead  ;  though  Oliver  niay,  at  first,  have  imagined 
that  he  had  returned  to  Ireland.  Years  now  passed 
on,  and  young  Charles,  by  industry  and  perseverance, 
began  to  save  some  property ;  soon  after  which  he  mar- 
ried a  widow  lady  of  some  fortune,  when  his  young 
family  requiring  the  advantages  of  further  education, 
he  determined  to  return  to  England,  to  examine  into 
the  state  of  society,  and  into  the  propriety  of  bringing 
over  his  wife  and  family;  on  this  project  he  was  then 
engaged,  and  was  proceeding  to  Ireland  to  visit  his 
native  home,  and  with  the  intention  of  making  himself 
known  to  such  of  his  relatives  as  might  still  be  living. 
His  plan,  however,  was,  to  conceal  his  good  fortune 
until  he  should  ascertain  their  aliection  and  esteem 
for  him. 

On  arriving  at  Dublin,  the  party  separated;  and 
my  friend,  a  few  weeks  afterwards,  returning  from 
the  north,  called  at  the  Hotel  where  he  knew  Mr. 
Goldsmith  intended  to  reside.  There  he  met  him; 
when  the  amiable  old  man,  for  such  he  really  was. 
told  him  that  he  had  put  his  plan  in  execution ;  had 
given  himself  as  much  of  the  appearance  of  poverty  as 
he  could  with  propriety,  and  thus  proceeded  to  the 
shop  of  his  brother  Maurice,  where  he  inquired  for  sev- 
fcral  articles,  and  then  noticed  the  name  over  the  door. 


170  MExVlOIRS  OF 

asking  if  it  had  any  connection  with  the  famous  Dr. 
Goldsmith. 

"  I  am  his  brother,  his  sole  surviving  brother," 
said  Maurice. 

"  What  then/^  replied  the  stranger,  "  is  become  of 
the  others?" 

'^  Henry  has  long  been  dead;  and  poor  Charles  has 
not  been  heard  of  for  many  years." 

"  Bat  suppose  Charles  were  alive,"  said  the 
stranger,  "  would  his  friends  acknowledge  him?" 

"  Oh  yes !"  replied  Maurice,  "  gladly  indeed  !" 

*'  He  lives,  then ;  but  as  poor  as  when  he  left  you." 

Maurice  instantly  leaped  over  his  counter,  hugged 
liim  in  his  arms,  and  weeping  with  pleasure,  cried 
''  Welcome — welcome — here  you  shall  find  a  home 
and  a  brother." 

It  is  needless  to  add,  that  this  denouement  was 
perfectly  agreeable  to  the  stranger,  who  was  then  pre- 
paring to  return  to  Jamaica  to  make  his  proposed  fam- 
ily arrangements;  but  my  friend  having  been  engaged 
for  the  next  twenty  years  in  traversing  the  four  quar- 
ters of  the  globe,  being  himself  a  wanderer,  has  never, 
since  that  period,  had  an  opportunity  of  making  in- 
quiries into  the  welfare  of  the  stranger,  for  whom  he 
had,  indeed,  formed  a  great  esteem,  even  en  a  few 
days  acquaintance. 

Sir  Joshua  was  much  affected  by  the  death  of  Gold- 
smith, to  whom  he  had  been  a  ATry  sincere  friend.  He 
did  not  touch  the  pencil  for  that  day,  a  circumstance 
most  extraordinary  for  him,  w  ho  passed  no  day  with- 
out a  line.  He  acted  as  executor,  and  managed  in  the 
best  manner,  the  confused  state  of  ti»e  Doctor's  affairs. 
At  first  he  intended,  as  I  have  already  slated,  to  have 
made  a  grand  funeral  for  him,  assisted  by  several  sub- 
scriptions to  (hat  intent,  and  to  have  buried  him  in  liie 
Abbey,  his  pall-bearers  to  have  been  Lord  Shelburne, 
Lord  Louth,  Sir  Joshua  himself,  Burke,  Garrick, 
&c. ;  but,  o!i  second  thoughts,  he  resolved  to  have  him 
buried  in  the  plainest  and  most  private  manner  possi- 
ble, observing,  that  the  most  ponjpous  funerals  lU'^ 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  lyi 

soon  past  and  forgotten  5  and  that  it  would  be  much 
more  prudent  to  apply  what  money  could  be  pro- 
cured, to  the  purpose  of  a  more  substantial  and  more 
lasting  memorial  of  his  departed  friend,  by  a  monu- 
meot;  and  he  was,  accordingly,  privately  interred  in 
the  Temple  burying  ground. 

Sir  Joshua  went  himself  to  AYestminster  Abbey, 
and  iixed  upon  the  place  where  Goldsmith's  monu- 
nient  now  stands,  over  a  door  in  the  Poets'  Corner. 
He  thought  himself  lucky  in  being  able  to  iind  so 
conspicuous  a  situation  for  it^  as  there  scarcely  re- 
mained another  so  good. 

Nollekens,  the  sculptor,  was  employed  to  make 
the  monument,  and  Dr.  Johnson  composed  the  epi. 
taph. 

There  is  a  very  fine  portrait,  which  is  the  only 
original  one,  of  Dr.  Goldsmith,  now  at  Knowle,  the 
seat  of  the  Duke  of  Dorset,  painted  by  Sir  Josliua. 

A  lady,  who  was  a  great  friend  of  Dr.  Goldsmith, 
earnestly  desired  to  have  a  lock  of  his  hair  to  keep  as 
a  memorial  of  him ;  and  his  coffin  was  opened  again, 
after  it  liad  been  closed  up,  to  procure  this  lock  of  hair 
from  his  head ;  this  relick  is  still  in  the  possession  of 
the  family,  and  is  the  only  one  of  the  kind  whicli  has 
been  preserved  of  the  Doctor. 

An  observation  of  Dr.  Bealtie,  respecting  the  de- 
ceased poet,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Montague,  must  not 
be  passed  over.  ^^  I  am  sorry  for  poor  Goldsmith. 
There  were  some  things  in  his  temper  which  I  did 
not  like  ;  but  I  liked  many  things  in  his  genius;  and  I 
was  sorry  to  find,  last  summer,  that  he  looked  upon 
me  as  a  person  who  seemed  to  stand  between  him  and 
liis  interest.  However,  wlien  next  we  meet,  all  this 
will  be  forgotten,  and  the  jealousy  of  authors,  which, 
Dr.  Gregory  used  to  say,  was  next  to  that  of  physi- 
cians, Avill  be  no  more." 

Soon  after  Goldsmith's  death,  some  people  dining 
with  Sir  Joshua  were  commenting  rather  freely  on 
some  part  of  his  works,  which,  in  their  opinion,  neither 
discovered  talent  nor  ori2:inalitv.   To  this,  Dr.  John- 

A  a 


173  MEMOIRS  OF 

soil  listened,  in  his  usual  growling  manner,  for  some 
time;  when,  at  length,  his  patience  being  exhausted, 
lie  rose,  with  great  dignity?  looked  them  full  in  the 
face,  and  exclaimed,  '*  If  nobody  was  suftered  to 
abuse  poor  Goldy,  but  those  wlio  could  write  as  well, 
he  would  have  few  censors.'' 

Yet,  on  another  occasion,  soon  after  the  death  of 
Goldsmith,  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance  was  condoling 
with  Dr.  Johnson  on  their  loss,  saying,  "  Poor  Gold- 
smith !  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  for  him;  he  was  every 
man's  friend  !" 

"  No,  Madam,"  answered  Johnson,  ^''  he  was  no 
man's  friend!" 

In  this  seemingly  harsh  sentence,  however,  lie 
merely  alluded  to  the  careless  and  imprudent  conduct 
of  Goldsmith,  as  being  no  friend  even  to  himself,  and 
when  that  is  the  case,  a  man  is  rendered  incapable  of 
being  of  any  essential  service  to  any  one  else. 

It  has  been  generally  circulated,  and  believed  by 
many,  that  Goldsmith  was  a  mere  fool  in  conversation ; 
but,  in  truth,  this  has  been  greatly  exaggerated  by 
such  as  were  really  fools.  In  allusion  to  tiiis  notion 
Mr.  Horace  Walpole,  who  admired  his  writings,  said 
he  was  '•  an  inspired  idiot,"  and  Garrick  described 
Lira  as  one, 

" for  shortness  calPd  Noll, 


Who  wrote  Uke  an  angel,  but  talk'd  like  poor  Poll." 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  mentioned  to  Boswell  that  he 
frequently  had  heard  Goldsmith  talk  warmly  of  the 
pleasure  of  being  liked,  and  observe  how  hard  it 
would  be  if  literary  excellence  should  preclude  a  man 
form  that  satisfaction,  which  he  perceived  it  often  did, 
from  the  envy  which  attended  it;  and  therefore  Sir 
Joshua  was  convinced,  that  he  was  intentionally  more 
absurd,  in  order  to  lessen  himself  in  social  intercourse, 
trusting  that  his  character  would  be  sufficiently  sup- 
ported by  his  works.  If  it  was  his  intention  to  appear 
absurd  in  company,  he  was  often  very  successful© 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I73 

This,  iu  my  own  opinion,  was  really  tlie  case;  and  I 
also  think  Sir  Joshua  was  so  sensible  of  the  advantage 
of  it,  that  he,  yet  in  a  much  less  degree,  followed  the 
same  idea,  as  he  never  had  a  wish  to  impress  his  com. 
pany  with  any  awe  of  the  great  abilities  with  which 
he  was  endowed,  especially  wiien  in  the  society  of 
those  high  in  rank. 

I  have  heard  Sir  Joshua  say,  that  he  has  frequently 
seen  the  whole  company  struck  with  an  awful  silence 
at  the  entrance  of  Goldsmith,  but  that  Goldsmith  has 
quickly  dispelled  the  charm,  by  his  boyish  and  social 
manners,  and  he  then  has  soon  become  the  plaything 
and  favourite  of  the  company. 

His  epitaph  in  Westminster  Al>bey,  written  by  Dr. 
Johnson,  is  a  true  character  of  the  eccentric  poet. 

Among  the  various  tril)utes  to  his  memory,  w\is  one 
by  Courtney  Melmotli,  (Mr.  Pratt,  I  believe,)  dedi- 
cated to  Sir  Joshua,  "  vvlio  will  naturally  receive 
with  kindness  whatever  is  designed  as  a  testimony  of 
justice  to  a  friend  that  is  no  more."  In  this,  the  dedi- 
cator has  well  attempted  to  pourtray  the  feelings  of  Sir 
Joshua's  heart. 

Before  I  dismiss  poor  Goldsmith  from  the  stage,  it 
may  be  proper  to  notice  another  dedication  to  Sir 
Joshua,  prefixed  to  that  edition  of  his  works  publish- 
ed by  Evans,  in  which  he  says — 

*•  Sir, 

"  I  am  iiappy  in  having  your  permission  to 
inscribe  to  you  this  complete  edition  of  the  truly  poeti- 
cal works  of  your  late  ingenious  friend,  Oliver  Gold- 
smith. They  will  prove  a  lasting  monument  of  his 
genius.  Every  lover  of  science  must  deeply  lament 
that  this  excellent  writer,  after  long  struggling  with 
adversity,  finished  ids  mortal  career  just  as  his  reputa- 
tion was  firmly  established,  and  he  had  acquired  the 
friendship  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Dr.  Johnson,  Mr. 
Edmund  Burke,  the  Dean  of  Derry,  Mr.  Beauclerk^ 
jg  and  Mr.  Cumberland,   names  which  adorn  our  age 


174  MEMOIRS  OF 

and  nation.    It  is,  Sir,  being  merely  an  echo  of  the 
jrnhlic  voice,  to  celebrate  your  admirable  productions, 

'  In  wliich,  to  latest  time,  the  artist  lives.' 

^'  Kad  Dr.  Goldstnith  understood  the  art  of  painting, 
of  which  lie  modestly  declares  himself  ignorant,  his 
pen  Mould  have  done  justice  to  the  merits  of  your 
pencil.  He  chose  a  nobler  theme,  by  declaring  his 
ardent  aifcction  for  the  virtues  of  ijaiir  heart.  That 
you  may  long  continue,  Sir,  the  ornament  of  your 
country  and  the  deliglit  of  your  friends,  is  tiie  sincere 
wish  of  your  most  obliged  humble  servant, 

"T.Evans." 


In  closing  the  year  i77^^  it  is  necessary  to  take  a 
short  view  of  his  sixth  discourse,  which  was  delivered 
on  the  10th  of  December. 

It  is  to  be  observed  in  this  place,  that  one  year 
had  elapsed  without  his  having  given  a  discourse, 
which  was  the  first  omission  since  its  commencement ; 
but  as  these  orations  were  only  given  on  the  evenings 
when  the  gold  medals  were  presented  to  successful 
candidates  as  the  prize,  it  had  been  previously  deter- 
mined in  the  last  year,  that  as  genius  was  not  of  quick 
growth  it  would  be  fully  sufficient  to  bestow  the  prizes 
in  future  only  once  in  two  years,  and  this  yule  has 
since  been  regularly  followed. 

In  this  discourse  he  took  a  view  of  the  best  princi- 
ples in  that  part  of  a  painter's  art,  called  "  Imitation  ;*' 
and,  after  shewing  where  Genius  commences,  and 
where  it  finds  a  limit,  he  proved  that  invention  was 
acquired  by  being  conversant  with  the  inventions  of 
others.  To  this  he  subjoined  some  rules  for  allowable 
imitation,  marked  the  legal  extent  of  borrowing,  and 
pointed  out  what  might  fairly  be  collected  from  each 
specific  school  of  the  art. 

As  this  discourse,  however,  was  more  of  profession- 
al than  of  general  import,  I  shall  not  discuss  it  at  any  g 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I75 

length,  but  shall  merely  insert  two  or  there  passages 
which  strongly  mark  the  originality  of  his  own  genius, 
and  may  be  said  almost  to  disprove  the  truth  of  his 
position,  that  Invention  and  Genius  are  the  children, 
or  at  least  the  pupils,  of  Imitation. 

"  Genius  is  supposed  to  be  a  power  of  producing 
excellencies  which  are  out  of  the  reach  of  the  rules  of 
art;  a  power  which  no  precepts  can  teach,  and  which 
no  industry  can  acquire." — 

"  But  the  truth  is,  that  the  degree  of  excellence 
which  proclaims  Genius  is  different,  in  different  times 
and  places;  and  what  shows  it  to  he  so  is,  that  man- 
kind have  often  changed  their  opinion  upon  this 
matter." — 

"  What  we  now  call  Genius  begins,  not  where 
rules,  abstractedly  taken,  end;  but  where  known  vul- 
gar and  trite  rules  have  no  longer  any  place." — 

"  Invention  is  one  of  the  greatest  marks  of  Genius  ; 
but  if  we  consult  experience,  we  shall  find  tliat  it  is 
by  being  conversant  with  the  invention  of  others,  that 
we  learn  to  invent ;  as  by  reading  the  thouglits  of 
others,  we  learn  to  think." — r 

^'  The  mind  is  but  a  barren  soil;  a  soil  which  is 
soon  exhausted,  and  will  produce  no  crop,  or  only 
one,  unless  it  be  continually  fertilized  and  enriched 
with  foreign  matter." — 

Such  were  a  few  of  the  most  striking  general  truths 
in  this  discourse  ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  nona  of 
his  discourses  possess  more  beauties  than  this  one, 
though,  for  the  most  part,  strictly  of  a  professional 
nature.  One  anecdote  related  in  it  shall  close  the 
subject. 

"  I  remember,"  said  Sir  Joshua,  "  several  years 
ago,  to  have  conversed  at  Rome  with  an  artist 
of  great  fame  throughout  Europe ;  he  was  not  without 
a  considerable  degree  of  abilities,  but  these  abilities 
were  by  no  means  equal  to  his  own  opinion  of  them, 

"  From  the  reputation  he  had  acquired,  he  too  fond- 
ly concluded  that  he  stood  iu  the  same  rank  when 
compared  with  his  predecessors,  as  he  held  with  re- 


176  MEMOIRS  OF 

gartl  to  his  miserable  conterapory  rivals.  In  couverjia- 
tion  about  some  particulars  of  the  works  of  Raftaelle, 
he  seemed  to  have,  or  to  affect  to  have,  a  very  obscure 
memory  of  them.  He  told  me  that  he  had  not  set  his 
foot  iu  the  A^atican  for  fifteen  years  together;  that  lie 
had  been  in  treaty  to  copy  a  capital  picture  of  Raf- 
faelle,  but  that  the  business  liad  gone  off;  however,  if 
the  agreement  had  held,  his  copy  would  have  greatly 
exceeded  the  original ! 

"  The  merit  of  this  artist,  however  great  we  may 
suppose  it,  1  am  sure  would  have  been  far  greater, 
and  his  presumption  would  have  been  far  less,  if  he 
had  visited  the  V^atican,  as  in  reason  he  ought  to  have 
done,  at  least  once  every  montli  iu  his  life.'' 

In  the  year  1775?  or  about  that  time,  a  new  ar- 
rangement took  place  in  Sir  Joshua's  favourite  society, 
the  Literary  Club,  which  now^  changed  its  original 
plan  of  supping  once  a  Aveek,  into  dinner  parties 
once  a  fortnight,  during  the  parliamentary  sessions. 

In  this  year  also  he  paid  a  compliment  to  another 
club,  of  which  he  had  long  been  a  member ;  this  was 
a  present  of  a  portrait  of  himself  for  the  dining-room 
of  the  Dilletanti  Society,  held  in  Pall  Mall.  It  is  a 
three  quarter  length,  and  he  appears  in  his  own  hair, 
and  in  a  loose  robe :  it  has  since  been  engraved  ia 
mezzotinto  by  James  Watson. 

This  Society  of  Dilletanti  has  the  merit  of  being,  in 
some  measure,  the  harbinger  of  all  the  others  for  the 
Encouragement  of  the  Arts ;  for  although  it  was  at 
first  supposed  to  have  been  established  upon  political 
principles,  yet  a  few  years  at  least  before  Sir  Joshua's 
introduction  to  it,  the  members  had  at  last  the  good 
sense  to  alter  its  original  objects  (if  they  ever  were 
such,)  and  to  turn  their  thoughts  to  the  formation  of  a 
public  academy.  For  this  purpose  they  held  some  com- 
munications with  the  Society  of  Artists,  then  recently 
established,  but  some  jealousies  about  the  govern- 
ment and  regulation  of  the  proposed  institution  pre- 
vented any  union  from  taking  place. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I77 

This,  however,  did  not  discourage  the  Dilletauti 
members,  who,  without  any  apparent  ostentation,  si- 
lently directed  their  exertions  in  favour  of  the  arts, 
and  it  must  be  acknowledged  were  certainly  of  consid- 
erable service. 

It  was  in  this  year,  (1775,)  that  they  were  first 
enabled,  by  the  accumulation  of  a  fund  set  apart  for 
the  purpose,  to  support  a  student  at  the  Italian  Capi- 
tal, whilst  engaged  in  his  professional  acquirements  ; 
since  which  they  have  sent  out  several  classical  travel- 
lers, and  patronized  some  valuable  classical  produc- 
tions of  the  press  on  Grecian  Antiquities. 

In  this  year  was  painted  that  portrait  of  his  friend 
Dr.  Johnson,  which  represents  him  as  reading  and 
near-sighted.  This  was  very  displeasing  to  Johnson, 
who  when  he  saw  it,  reproved  Sir  Joshua  for  paint- 
ing him  in  that  manner  and  attitude,  saying,  *"'  It  is 
not  friendly  to  hand  down  to  posterity  tiie  imperfec- 
tions of  any  man.'^  But,  on  the  contrary.  Sir  Joshua 
himself  esteemed  it  as  a  circumstance  in  nature  to  be 
remarked  as  characterizing  the  person  represented, 
and  therefore  as  giving  additional  value  to  the  por- 
trait. 

Of  this  circumstance  Mrs.  Thrale  says,  ••  I  ob- 
served that  he  would  not  be  known  by  posterity,  for 
his  defects  only,  let  Sir  Joshua  do  his  worst:*' and 
when  she  adverted  to  hU  own  picture  painted  with 
the  ear  trumpet,  and  done  in  this  year  for  Mr.  Thrale, 
she  records  Johnson  to  have  answered,  '^  He  may 
paint  himself  as  deaf  as  he  chooses;  but  I  will  not  be 
blhiking  Sam.'' 

It  is  evideut,  however,  that  Sir  Joshua  meant  not 
to  hurt  his  feelings :  indeed,  his  general  politeness 
and  attention  at  all  times,  both  to  the  comfort  and  to 
the  foibles  of  his  friends,  are  particularly  exemplified 
in  this  year,  even  by  a  trifling  occurrence,  described 
by  Mr.  Boswell ;  when  being  engaged  along  with  that 
gentleman  and  Dr.  Johnson  to  dine  with  Mr.  Cam- 
bridge at  his  Twickenham  villa,  Sir  Joshua  being 
anxious  to  fulfil  an  engagement  at  llichmond,  early 


178  MExMOlRS  OF 

in  the  day,  set  oif  by  himself  on  horseback,  leaving 
Jiis  coach  for  his  friends,  uho  were  not  ready,  to  ac- 
company him,  in  consequence  of  Johnson's  tardiness. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  latter,  and  on  his  entering 
]\Ir.  Cambridge's  library,  he  immediately  ran  to  the 
shelves,  when  Sir  Joshua  whispered  to  Boswell, 
*'  He  runs  to  the  books,  as  I  do  to  the  pictures;  but  I 
have  the  advantage,  as  I  can  see  more  of  the  one  than 
he  does  of  the  other.*' 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  177i»^  be  sent  his  por- 
trait painted  by  himself,  in  the  dress  of  his  Universi- 
ty honours,  to  be  placed  in  the  Gallery  of  illustrious 
Painters  at  Florence,  in  consequence  of  his  having 
been  chosen  a  member  of  the  Imperial  Academy  of 
that  cit3',  and  in  compliance  with  its  regulations,  by 
which,  in  return  for  the  honour  conferred,  the  newly 
elected  member  is  required  to  present  bis  portrait, 
painted  by  liis  own  hand ;  a  circumstance  which  has 
produced  the  most  curious  and  valuable  collection  of 
portraits  of  eminent  painters  in  the  world. 

The  following  inscription  in  Sir  Joshua's  own 
hand  is  on  the  back  of  the  portrait,  painted  on  a  pannel 
of  mahoiranv:  — 

"  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS,  EQUES  AURATUS, 

ACADEML^    REGI.i:  LOMDINI  PRiESES, 

JL'KIS  CIVILIS  APUD  OXONIEXSES  DOCTOR,: 

KEGl.E  SOCIETATIS,    ANTIQUARIiE, 

LONDINI  SOCIUS. 

IIOXORARIUS  FLORENTINAS  APUD  ACADEMI.E 

IMPERIALIS  SOCIUS,    NEC  NON  OPPIDI  NATALIS,  DICTI 

PLIMPTON  COMITAT.  DEVON. 

PR^.FECTUS  JUSTITIARIUS  MORUMQUE  CENSOR." 

This  has  since  been  engraved  by  C.  Townly. 

In  the  year  177i>?  Mr.  Nath.  Hone  made  an  ex- 
hibition of  several  of  his  works,  at  a  great  room  nearly- 
opposite  to  Old   Slaughter's  Cofifee-house.  St.  Mar- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


#    179 


tiii's-lane.  The  collection  contained  between  sixty 
and  seventy  paintings :  among  theiu  were  two  whicli 
claimed  particular  notice.  It  seemed  that  the  first 
idea  of  this  exhibition  owed  its  origin  to  pique,  and 
something  of  envy  in  the  artist  towards  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  and  this  opinion  is  suggested  by  the  fol- 
lowing anecdotes. 

In  the  exhibition  of  the  Koyal  Academy,  ly/O, 
there  was  a  picture  painted  by  Mr.  Hone,  entitled 
''  Two  Gentlemen  in  Masquerade;"  they  were  rep- 
resented as  Capuchin  Friars,  regaling  themselves 
with  punch.  When  this  picture  was  sent  for  ad- 
mission, one  of  the  personages  was  represented  as 
squeezing  a  lemon,  while  the  other  was  stirring  the 
liquor  with  the  crucifix,  at  the  end  of  his  rosary :  but 
the  Council  considered  the  latter  circumstance  as  too 
indecorous  to  allow  the  picture's  being  exhibited  in 
that  state ;  and  the  artist  was  requested  to  alter  the 
crucifix.  This  request  was  complied  with,  but  Mr. 
Hone  was  mucli  offended,  when  in  truth,  he  ought 
rather  to  have  been  pleased,  with  their  having  pointed 
out  an  impropriety,  which  might  not  have  struck  him 
upon  the  first  idea  of  his  picture.  However,  the  de- 
sired alteration  was  made,  and  a  ladle  introduced, 
which  he  painted  with  a  substance  easily  washed 
away ;  and  the  picture  was  again  displayed  at  his  own 
exhibition  in  its  primitive  state. 

The  other  picture,  which  was  the  leading  feature  of 
his  exhibition,  represented  an  old  man,  half-length, 
the  size  of  life,  painted  after  the  model  from  which 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  had  painted  his  Count  Ugolino. 
This  picture,  which  Mr.  Hone  called  the  Conjurer, 
was  intended  as  a  satire  upon  Sir  Joshua's  method  of 
composing  his  pictures.  Yet  Mr.  Hone's  ridicule  was 
not  very  apparent,  for  his  figure  represented  little 
more  than  an  old  man,  with  a  wand  in  liis  liand,  per- 
forming incantations,  by  which  a  number  of  prints  and 
sketches  were  made  to  float  in  the  air,  all  of  which 
were  representations  of  those  originals  from  which  Sir 
Joshua   had   taken  the   actions  of  the   figures   and 


480'    V  MExMOIUS  OF 

groupes  which  he  had  introduced  into  some  of  his 
principal  portraits. 

As  this  picture,  which  did  not  display  much  vigour 
of  mind,  was  evidently  meant  as  an  attack  upon  the 
President,  the  Council  of  the  Royal  Academy  thought 
it  prudent  to  exclude  it  from  their  exhibition,  which 
again  greatly  displeased  Mr.  Hone;  and  he,  like 
many  others,  disappointed  in  his  private  schemes,  ap- 
pealed to  the  public  by  an  exhibition  of  his  own. 

Instead  of  trusting  to  my  own  temper  in  animad- 
verting any  farther  on  such  an  attack  on  this  great 
painter,  I  shall  give  a  passage,  and  perhaps  with  more 
ibrce,  from  the  pen  of  a  writer  Avho,  whatever  his 
merits  or  demerits  may  be,  cannot  be  accused  of  par- 
tiality for  the  subject  of  our  biography.  He  says, 
speaking  of  Hone,  "  This  gentleman  should  be  almost 
exclusively  arranged  as  a  portrait  painter,  as  he  paint- 
ed but  two  historical  compositions.  The  first  was  a 
satire  on  monkish  licentiousness;  and  the  other  was 
the  exhibition  of  a  jnctorial  conjurer^  displaying  his 
cleverness  in  tlie  arts  of  deceiving  the  sight.  This  last 
performance  was  intended  as  an  exposition  of  the 
manoeuvring,  in  respect  to  attitudes,  which  was  so 
attributed  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  This  vindictive 
eflbrt  was  sent  by  its  parent  to  the  annual  exhibition ; 
but  was  rejected  by  the  Academicians  with  becoming 
scorn,  as  the  issue  of  a  little  mind,  and  powers  of  fancy 
most  scandalously  directed  :'' — a  keenness  of  rebuke 
wliich  has  well  employed  the  pen  of  the  author. 

lu  the  course  of  this  year,  Sir  Joshua  had  finished 
Jiis  well  known  picture  of  "  Venus  chiding  Cupid.*' 
It  was  done  for  Sir  Brooke  Boothby,  who  in  1794  sold 
it  to  Sir  Thomas  Bernard. 

Boswell,  about  this  time,  records  an  observation  of 
Dr.  Johnson's,  which  was  highly  descriptive  of  Sir 
Joshua's  placidity  and  evenness  of  disposition ;  not  an 
overstrained  stoicism,  but  that  happy  equability  which 
proceeds  both  from  mind  and  disposition.  Whilst 
conversing  on  melancholy,  Johnson  said,  that  "  some 
men,  and  very  thinking  men  too,  have  not  these  vex- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  181 

ing  thoughts.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  is  the  same  all 
the  year  rouud." 

A  character  of  the  Honourable  Mrs.  P.,  written  by 
Sir  Joshua,  was  published  in  the  newspapers  of  the 
day,  and  the  printer  had  taken  the  liberty  of  altering 
a  word  in  it,  to  make  it,  as  he  thought,  much  better, 
but  which  Sir  Joshua  thought  made  it  much  other- 
wise. In  speaking  of  this  afterwards  to  the  late  Caleb 
Whiteford,  Sir  Joshua  complained  of  the  absurd 
alteration,  and  said  it  had  quite  destroyed  the  simpli- 
city of  the  whole,  when  Whiteford  made  the  compari- 
son of  a  pot  of  broth  over  the  tire,  into  which  a  lump 
of  soot  falls  from  the  chimney,  and  the  whole  mess  is 
spoiled. 

What  the  word  was  which  the  printer  expunged  I 
do  not  know ;  but  the  character  here  inserted  is  in  its 
original  form. 

Character  of  the  Honourable  Mrs.  P.  hj  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  December  2ist.  17/5. 

^'  The  death  of  this  Honourable  Lady  was  occasion- 
ed by  a  stroke  of  the  palsy,  which  happened  soon 
after  her  lying-in  of  a  daughter;  of  this  she  appeared 
to  be  recovering ;  but  receiving  a  second  stroke,  and 
soon  after  that  a  third,  it  put  an  end  to  the  life  of  one 
of  the  most  valuable  of  women. 

"  Her  amiable  disposition,  her  softness  and  gentle- 
ness of  manners,  endeared  her  to  every  one  that  had 
the  happiness  of  knowing  her :  her  whole  pleasure 
and  ambition  were  centered  in  a  consciousness  of 
properly  discharging  all  the  duties  of  a  wife,  a  mother, 
and  a  sister;  and  she  neither  sought  for,  nor  expected, 
fame  out  of  her  own  house.  As  she  made  no  ostenta- 
tion of  her  virtues,  she  excited  no  envy ;  but  if  there 
had  existed  so  depraved  a  being  as  to  wish  to  wound 
so  fair  a  character,  the  most  artful  malignity  must 
have  searched  in  vain  for  a  weak  part.  Her  virtues 
were  uniform,  quiet,  and  habitual ;  they  were  not  oc- 
casionally put  on;  she  wore  them  continually;  they 


18:3  MEMOIRS  OF 

seemed  to  grow  to  her  and  be  a  part  of  licrself ;  and  it 
seemed  to  be  impossible  for  her  to  lay  them  aside  or 
be  other  than  what  she  was.  Her  person  was  eminent- 
ly boautiful;  but  the  expression  of  lier  countenance 
was  far  above  all  beauty  that  proceeds  from  regularity 
of  features  only.  The  gentleness  and  benevolence  of 
•  her  disposition  were  so  naturally  impressed  on  every 
look  and  motion,  that  without  any  affected  effort  or 
assumed  courtesy,  she  was  sure  to  make  every  one 
lier  friend  that  had  ever  spoke  to  her,  or  ever  seen  her. 

"  In  so  exalted  a  character  it  is  scarce  worth  men- 
tioning  her  skill  and  exact  judgment  in  the  polite  arts; 
she  seemed  to  possess,  by  a  kind  of  intuition,  that 
propriety  of  taste  and  right  thinking,  which  others  but 
imperfectly  acquire  by  long  labour  and  application.'' 

At  the  time  when  I  was  a  student  at  the  Koyal 
Academy,  I  was  accidentally  repeating  to  bir  Joshua 
the  instructions  on  colouring  I  had  heard  there  given 
by  an  eminent  painter  who  then  attended  as  visitor. 
Sir  Joshua  replied,  that  this  painter  was  undoubtedly 
a  very  sensible  man,  but  by  no  means  a  good  colour- 
ist.;  adding,  that  there  was  not  a  man  then  on  earth  who 
had  the  least  notion  of  colouring;  "  we,  all  of  us," 
said  he,  "  have  it  equally  to  seek  for  and  find  out,  as 
at  present  it  is  totally  lost  to  the  art." 

Strong  objections  were  often  certainly  made  to  Sir 
Joshua's  process  or  mode  of  colouring;  but  perhaps 
the  best  answer  to  all  these  is  in  the  following  anec- 
dote. 

One  of  these  critics,  who  passed  for  a  great  patron 
of  the  art,  Avas  complaining  strongly  to  a  judicious 
friend  of  Sir  Joshua's  '*  flying  colours"  and  express- 
ing great  regret  at  the  circumstances  as  it  prevented 
him  from  having  his  picture  painted  by  the  president. 
To  all  this  his  friend  calmly  replied,  that  he  should 
reflect  that  any  painter  who  merely  wished  to  make  his 
colours  stand,  ha<l  only  to  purchase  them  at  the  first 
colour  shop  he  might  come  to;  but  that  it  must  be 
remembered  that  "  every  picture  of  Sir  Joshua's  was 
an  experiment  of  art  made  by  an  ingenious  man, — 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  183 

and  that  the  art  achmnced  by  such  experiments,  even 
where  they  failed. 

lu  tine,  what  Gainsborough  said  of  the  President  is 
strictly  true :  that  in  his  opinion  Sir  Joshua's  pictures 
in  their  most  decayed  state  were  better  than  those  of 
any  other  artist  when  in  their  best. 

I  once  humbly  endeavoured  to  persuade  Sir  Joshua 
to  abandon  those  fleeting  colours  lake  and  carmine, 
which  it  was  his  practice  to  use  in  painting  his  flesh, 
and  to  adopt  vermilion  in  their  stead  as  infinitely  more 
durable  although  not  so  exactly  true  to  nature  as  the 
former.  I  remember  he  looked  on  his  hand  and  said 
^'  I  can  see  no  vermilion  in  flesh."  I  replied,  "  but 
did  not  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  always  use  vermilion  in 
his  flesh  colour,''  when  Sir  Joshua  answered  rather 
sharply,  ^'  What  signifies  what  a  man  used  who  could 
not  colour.   But  you  may  use  it  if  you  will!'' 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  Sir  Joshua 
made  use  of  vermilion  himself  in  all  his  latter  works, 
finding  by  experience  the  ill  efl'ects  of  lake  and  car- 
mine in  his  early  productions. 

Ifany  other  apology  were  necessary  for  Sir  Joshua's 
mode  of  practice,  it  may  be  found  in  his  own  words, 
in  one  of  the  fragments,  as  preserved  by  Mr.  Malone ; 
there  he  says,  '^  I  was  always  willing  to  believe  that 
my  uncertainty  of  proceeding  in  my  W(>rks,  that  is,  my 
never  being  sure  of  my  hand,  and  my  frequent  altera- 
tions, arose  from  a  refined  taste,  which  could  not 
acquiesce  in  any  thing  short  of  a  high  degree  of  ex- 
cellence. I  had  not  an  opportunity  of  being  early 
initiated  in  the  principles  of  Colouring:  no  man  in- 
deed could  teach  me.  If  I  have  never  been  settled 
with  respect  to  colouring,  let  it  at  tlie  same  time  be 
remembered,  that  my  unsteadiness  in  this  respect 
proceeded  from  an  inordinate  desire  to  possess  every 
kind  of  excellence  that  I  sa\v  in  the  works  of  others, 
without  considering  that  there  arc  in  colouring,  as  in 
style,  excellencies  which  are  incompatible  with  each 
other:  however,  this  pursuit,  or  indeed  any  other 
similar  pursuit,  prevents  the  artist  from  being  tired  of 


181  MEMOIRS  OF 

his  art.  We  all  know  how  often  those  masters,  who 
sought  after  colouring,  changed  their  manner;  whilst 
others,  merely  from  not  seeing  various  modes,  ac- 
quiesced all  their  lives  in  that  with  which  they  set  out. 
On  the  contrary,  1  tried  every  effect  of  colour,  and  by 
leaving  out  every  colour  in  its  turn,  showed  every 
colour  that  I  could  do  without  it.  As  I  alternately  left 
out  every  colour,  I  tried  every  new  colour;  and,  often, 
as  is  well  known,  failed.  The  former  practice,  I  am 
aware,  may  be  compared  by  those  whose  first  object 
is  ridicule,  to  that  of  the  poet  mentioned  in  the  Spec- 
tator, who  In  a  poem  of  twenty-four  books,  contrived 
in  each  book  to  leave  out  a  letter.  But  I  was  influ- 
enced by  no  such  idle  or  foolish  affectation.  My  fickle- 
ness in  the  mode  of  colouring  arose  from  an  eager 
desire  to  attain  the  highest  excellence.  This  is  the 
only  merit  I  can  assume  to  myself  from  my  conduct  in 
that  respect." 

But  it  was  not  to  experiments  on  his  own  colouring 
alone  that  Sir  Joshua  trusted  for  gaining  experience ; 
for  he  actually  tried  experiments  with  several  capital 
ancient  paintings  of  the  Venetian  School,  in  order,  if 
possible,  to  ascertain  their  grounds,  to  trace  their 
process  in  laying  on,  and  to  analyze  the  chemical 
mixture  of  tlieir  various  tints.  This  circumstance  has 
been  noticed  by  Mr.  Malone,  and  is  very  just — an 
experiment  too,  conducted  at  an  immense  expense, 
for  each  painting  thus  investigated  was,  of  course, 
totally  destroyed. 

Sir  Joshua's  early  and  continued  success  is,  how- 
ever, very  well  delineated  by  himself  in  one  of  those 
fragments  already  mentioned,  where  he  says,  "  I 
considered  myself  as  playing  a  great  game,  and,  in- 
stead of  beginning  to  save  money,  I  laid  it  out  faster 
than  1  got  it,  in  purchasing  the  best  examples  of  art 
that  could  be  procured  ;  for  I  even  borrowed  money 
for  this  purpose.  The  possessing  portraits  by  Titian, 
Vandyke,  Rembrandt,  &c.,  I  considered  as  the  best 
kind  of  wealth.  By  studying  carefully  the  works  of 
great  masters,  this  advantage  is  obtained;  we  find  that 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  183 

cel'tain  niceties  of  expression  are  capable  of  being 
executed,  which  otherwise  we  might  suppose  beyond 
the  reach  of  art.  This  gives  us  a  confidence  in  our- 
selves, and  we  are  thus  incited  to  endeavour  at  not 
only  the  same  happiness  of  execution,  but  also  at 
other  congenial  excellencies.  Study,  indeed,  consists 
in  learning  to  see  nature,  and  may  be  caUed  the  art 
of  using  other  men's  minds.  By  tliis  kind  of  contem- 
plation and  exercise  we  are  taught  to  think  in  their 
way,  and  sometimes  to  attain  their  excellence.  Thus, 
for  instance,  if  I  had  never  seen  any  of  the  works  ot" 
Corregio,  I  should  never  perhaps  have  remarked  in 
nature  the  expression  which  I  find  in  one  of  his  pieces ; 
or  if  I  had  remarked  it,  1  might  liave  tiiought  it  too 
diiRcult,  or  perhaps  impossible,  to  be  executed." 

It  must  have  been  reasons  such  as  these  which 
could  ever  induce  him  to  make  a  copy  from  any 
master,  and  only  when  he  desired  to  possess  him- 
self of  some  peculiar  excellence  which  another  pos- 
sessed before  him,  and  when  he  did  condescend  to 
copy,  its  degree  of  correctness  may  be  judged  of 
by  an  instance  which  I  heard  liimself  relate.  The 
Chevalier  Vanloo,  the  eminent  portrait  painter,  being 
in  England,  one  day  M'hen  he  paid  a  visit  to  Sir 
Joshua,  boasted  of  his  great  knowledge  in  the  woi'ks 
of  the  different  famous  painters,  saying  he  could  not 
be  deceived  or  imposed  upon  by  a  copy  for  an  original. 
Sir  Joshua  then  shewed  him  a  head  of  an  old  woman 
which  he  had  copied  from  one  by  Rembrandt,  and 
without  letting  him  into  the  secret  asked  his  opinion 
upon  it.  The  French  painter,  after  a  very  careful  in- 
spection into  it,  said  he  could  pronounce  that  it  was 
undoubtedly  an  original  picture  by  Reml)randt ! 

Of  Sir  Joshua's  paintings,  any  accident  that  befel 
them  seems  of  sufficient  importance  to  record.  In  a 
small  room  next  to  his  own  painting  room,  there  were 
a  great  number  of  those  portraits  which  had  been  re- 
jected and  were  left  upon  his  hands ;  round  the  sides 
of  this  room  were  shelves,  on  w^liich  were  placed  large 
headS;  casts  from  the  antique,  and  at  a  great  height^ 


186  MEMOIRS  OF 

fur  the  room  was  lofty;  and  over  these  hung  some  old 
portraits  hy  Lely  and  others.  In  this  room  as  I  was 
one  day  busily  employed  in  painting  a  drapery  to  one 
of  his  portraits,  I  suddenly  heard  a  noise  as  if  some- 
thing had  fallen,  when  looking  up  to  the  place,  I  saw 
that  one  of  tliose  pictures  by  Lely  had  dropt  from  its 
nail,  and  falling  on  the  shelf,  and  thence  forward, 
threw  down  two  or  three  very  large  plaister  heads. 
I  had  but  a  moment  to  get  up  in  the  corner  of  this 
little  room,  when  the  whole  fell  down  on  the  floor, 
just  where  I  had  been  at  work,  with  a  violence  that 
would  have  certainly  proved  fatal  to  me,  had  I  not 
got  in  time  out  of  the  way,  as  a  moment  would  have 
been  too  late.  The  easel  was  knocked  down,  together 
with  the  picture  on  which  I  was  at  work,  and  driven 
with  violence  through  five  or  six  of  those  unfortunate 
rejected  portraits,  as  they  happened  to  be  placed  one 
before  the  other,  whilst  the  floor  was  covered  with  the 
fragments  of  the  broken  plaister  heads  which  were 
dashed  to  pieces  by  the  fall.  The  great  noise  which 
this  made  alarmed  even  Sir  Joshua,  although  deaf, 
and  brought  him  into  the  room  in  a  hurry  to  know 
what  was  the  matter,  when  he  stared  with  surprize  to 
behold  the  wreck,  but  soon  calmly  smiled  at  a  misfor- 
tune, which,  indeed,  did  not  require  reparation. 

As  I  have  hinted  at  the  subject  of  his  drapery's 
liaving  been  frequently  executed  by  the  hands  of  his 
scholars,  it  is  bu^t  just  to  remark  in  this  place,  that  the 
whole  together  of  the  picture,  was  at  last  his  own,  as 
the  imitation  of  particular  stuiTs  is  not  the  work  of 
genius  but  is  to  be  acquired  easily  by  practice,  and 
this  was  what  his  pupils  could  do  by  care  and  time 
more  than  he  himself  chose  to  bestow,  but  his  own 
slight  and  masterly  work  was  still  the  best. 

No  painter  like  Sir  Joshua  knew  how  to  make  his 
drapery  answer  the  purpose  of  enriching  his  figures, 
as  may  be  seen  in  his  excellent  portrait  of  Geneial 
Tarlton :  for  though  the  figure  is  merely  in  a  close 
jacket,  yet,  by  making  it  unite,  in  a  certain  degree, 
with  the  flags  in  the  back  ground,  it  assumes  a  rich- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I87 

ness  unexampled  :  others  may  have  done  the  same  by 
accident,  in  him  it  was  principle. 

Further,  in  respect  to  this  part  of  the  subject,  I  re- 
member once  when  I  was  disposing  the  folds  of 
drapery  with  great  care  on  the  lay  figure,  in  order  to 
paint  from  it  into  one  of  his  pictures,  he  remarked  that 
it  would  not  nake  good  drapery  if  set  so  artificially, 
and  that  wheviever  it  did  not  fall  into  such  folds  as 
were  agreeable,  1  should  try  to  get  it  better,  by  taking 
the  chance  of  another  toss  of  the  drapery  stuff,  and  by 
that  means  I  should  get  nature,  which  is  always 
superior  to  art. 

Besides  the  assistance  which  Sir  Joshua  had  from 
his  pupils,  he  also  employed  Peter  Toms  to  paint 
drapery  for  him,  who  was  considered  as  the  most  per- 
fect auxiliary  in  that  department  of  painting  that  ex- 
isted in  his  time.  He  was  a  Royal  Academician,  and 
son  of  Mr.  Toms  the  engraver,  and  had  practised 
some  time  in  Ireland  as  a  portrait  painter. 

Sir  Joshua  was  fond  of  introducing  animals  or 
birds  occasionally  into  his  composition,  and  these  lie 
painted  with  great  spirit  and  life.  At  one  time  he  kept 
a  very  fine  eagle  which  was  chained  to  its  perch,  in 
the  back  area  of  the  house:  when  tliis  bird  died  I 
took  the  body  and  suspended  it  by  strings  so  as  to 
give  it  an  action  as  if  it  was  alive,  with  its  wings 
spread,  intending  to  paint  a  picture  from  it  for  myself. 
But  when  Sir  Joshua  saw  me  about  it  he  seemed 
pleased,  and  told  me  to  do  it  as  well  as  I  was  able ; 
and  when  I  liad  finished  the  work  to  tlie  best  of  my 
power,  he  took  the  picture  and  the  bird  into  his  own 
painting  room,  and  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  gave 
it  such  touches  of  animation  as  made  it  truly  fine, 
though  executed  with  a  bad  light,  for  I  remember  it 
was  too  late  in  the  day  when  he  did  it,  having  been 
the  niglit  before  at  a  masquerade,  which  had  oc- 
casioned his  remaining  very  long  in  bed  that  day. 

In  this  year  it  was  that  Mr.  Doughty  was  placed 
under  the  tuition  of  Sir  Joshua.  William  Doughty 
was  a  native  of  Yorkshire,  and  recommended  to  the 
cc 


188  MEMOIRS  Of 

notice  of  Sir  Joshua  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Mason.  He 
remained  about  three  years  in  tlie  house  of  Sir  Joshua 
us  liis  pupil,  and  at  that  time,  by  the  desire  of  Mr. 
31ason,  and  for  him,  painted  the  portrait  of  Gray  the 
poet  by  description,  (as  Gray  was  dead.)  and  the 
help  of  an  outline  of  his  profile,  which  had  been  taken 
by  lamp  light  when  he  was  living,  and  therefore 
must  have  been  very  exact ;  and  this  now  remains 
as  the  only  portrait  of  Gray.  It  has  been  engraved  for 
the  frontispiece  of  his  works,  and  sculptured  on  his 
liionument.  Mr.  Mason  was  the  particular  friend  of 
Gray,  and  the  editor  of  his  Avorks  after  his  death,  and 
also  the  patron  of  Doughty. 

On  Doughty  leaving  Sir  Joshua  he  went  to  Ireland 
but  did  not  succeed,  although  highly  recommended 
by  his  master  as  well  as  his  patron,  and  also  possess- 
ing greater  ability  than  his  more  fortunate  rivals.  He 
then  returned  to  London  exceedingly  dispirted,  from 
whence  he  took  shipping  for  Bengal  in  I78O ;  but  be- 
fore he  left  England  had  married  one  Margaret  Joy, 
a  servant  girl  in  Sir  Joshua's  liouse;  she  also  accom- 
panied him  when  he  left  England.  Having  been  cap- 
tured by  the  combined  squadrons  of  France  and 
Spain,  and  carried  to  Lisbon,  he  there  closed  his 
mortal  career.  In  1778  lie  had  exhibited  a  three 
quarter  length  of  his  patron  which  possessed  consid- 
erable merit;  and  he  scraped  some  excellent  mezzo- 
tinto  portraits,  among  which,  tiiose  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Mason  and  Dr.  Johnson  w^ere  the  most  perfect.  His 
widow  continued  her  voyage  to  India,  but  died  just 
on  her  arrival  at  Bengal. 

The  following  little  circumstance,  as  it  serves  to 
shew  the  kind  disposition  of  Sir  Joshua,  I  may  be  al- 
lowed to  mention,  although  it  relates  so  much  to  my 
own  concerns. 

The  latter  end  of  the  year  177^  ^^as  now  arrived, 
when  it  only  wanted  a  few  months  of  five  years  that  I 
had  been  with  him,  and  when  I  also  approached  the 
twenty-ninth  year  of  my  age;  and  I  thought  it  high 
time  for  me  to  do  something  for  myself  at  so  late  a 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  189 

period  in  the  life  of  a  pupil,  having  been  prevented  by 
many  causes  from  beginning  my  studies  as  a  painter 
in  earlier  youth.  I  therefore  thought  it  proper  to  give 
Sh' Joshua  notice  of  my  intentions  some  montiis  before 
my  departure;  this,  however,  was  a  task  very  disa- 
greeable to  me,  and  I  deferred  it  from  day  to  day, 
but  at  last  determined,  and  going  to  him  one  raorninii; 
in  the  month  of  December,  when  lie  was  alone  iu  iiis 
painting  room,  I  began  by  saying  that  at  the  end  of 
May  next  it  would  be  five  years  since  I  first  came  to 
his  house.  Sir  Joshua,  with  a  gentleness  in  his  man- 
ner, said,  that  he  thought  that  was  full  sufficient,  and 
that  I  was  now  well  able  to  do  for  myself.  1  then  re- 
plied, that  I  was  very  sensible  of  the  obligation  I  owed 
him,  and  that  I  would  stay  any  time  longer  he  should 
think  proper  if  I  could  be  of  any  service  to  him.  Sir 
Joshua  said  by  no  means,  as  I  had  already  done  him 
much  service:  I  answered  that  I  feared  I  had  not  been 
of  so  much  assistance  to  him  as  I  wished,  but  that  it 
was  solely  from  want  of  power,  and  not  inclination. 
Sir  Joshua  was  so  obliging  as  to  say,  that  I  had  heeu 
very  useful  to  him,  more  so  than  any  scholar  that  had 
ever  been  with  him ;  and  he  added,  ^^  I  hope  we  shall 
assist  each  other  as  long  as  we  live,^'  and  "  that  if  I 
would  remain  with  him  until  the  month  of  May  he 
should  be  very  much  obliged  to  me,  as  1  could  be 
very  useful  to  him ;"  I  answered,  that  I  intended  it, 
and  during  that  time  wished  to  work  as  much  as  it 
was  iu  my  power  for  his  service,  and  thus  the  conver- 
sation ended. 

On  the  12th  of  May,  1776,  I  took  my  leave  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  to  take  my  chance  in  the  world, 
and  we  parted  with  great  cordiality;  he  said  I  was 
perfectly  in  the  right  in  my  intentions,  and  that  he 
had  been  fully  satisfied  with  my  conduct  whilst  I  had 
been  with  him  ;  also,  that  he  had  no  idea  I  should 
have  staid  with  him  so  long,  "  but  now,''  added  Sir 
Joshua,  ^'  to  succeed  hi  the  art,  you  are  to  remember 
that  something  more  is  to  be  done  than  that  which  did 
formerly ;  Kneller,  Lely,  and  Hudson,  will  not  do 


190  MEMOIRS  OF 

now."  I  was  rather  surprized  to  hear  him  join  the 
former  two  names  with  that  of  Hudson,  who  was 
so  evidently  their  inferior  as  to  be  out  of  all  com- 
parison. 

It  was  impossible  to  quit  such  a  residence  as  Sir 
Joshua's  without  reluctance,  a  house  in  which  I  had 
spent  so  many  happy  hours,  and  although  perfectly 
satisfied  in  my  own  mind  that  what  I  did  in  this 
respect  was  rigbt,  and  that  it  was  higli  time  for  me  to 
be  acting  for  myself  on  the  stage  of  life,  yet  to  leave 
that  place,  whicli  was  tiie  constant  resort  of  all  the 
eminent  in  every  valuable  quality,  without  an  inward 
regret,  was  not  in  my  power.  It  is  a  melancholy  re- 
flection  even  at  tliis  moment,  when  one  considers  the 
ravages  a  few  short  years  have  made  in  that  unparal- 
leled society  which  shone  at  his  table,  now  all  gone! 

As  this  event  was  a  considerable  era  in  ray  life 
when  I  was  no  longer  to  be  an  inmate  as  one  of  the 
family  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  I  may  be  suffered 
to  make  a  pause,  and  indulge  my  thoughts  in  the 
pleasing  recollection  of  many  little  circumstances  and 
matters  of  observation  which  occurred  during  the 
space  of  five  years;  therefore,  as  a  kind  of  summing 
up,  and  closing  of  this  period,  I  shall  record  in 
this  place  several  matters,  perhaps  pleasing  only  to 
myself,  from  the  lively  remembrance  tliey  raise  in  ray 
mind  of  those  happy  years  of  my  life. 

Of  the  political  sentiments  of  Sir  Joshua  at  that 
time  I  may  merely  state,  that  during  the  contest 
between  England  and  America,  so  strongly  was  it 
the  opinion  of  many  persons  that  we  should  conquer 
them  in  the  end,  that  Sir  Joshua,  who  thought  the 
contrary,  actually  received  five  guineas  each  from 
several  gentlemen  under  a  promise  to  pay  them  in 
return  one  thousand  pounds  if  ever  he  painted  the 
portrait  of  General  Washington  in  England,  and 
which  he  was  not  to  refuse  to  do  in  case  the  General 
should  be  brought  to  him  to  that  intent. 

One  day  at  dinner  with  Sir  Joshua  and  his  sister, 
Miss  Reynolds,  1  remarked  to  her  that  I  had  never 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  191 

seen  any  picture  by  Jervas,  which  was  rather  extra- 
ordinary, as  he  was  a  fashionable  painter  in  liis  day; 
she  said,  "  Nor  I  neither,  I  wonder  how  that  should 
be.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  saw  one ;"  then  ad- 
dressing Sir  Joshua,  she  said,  "  Brother,  how  hap- 
pens it  that  we  never  meet  with  any  pictures  by 
Jervas  the  painter?"  when  he  answered  very  briskly, 
"  because  they  are  all  up  in  the  garret." 

In  so  saying,  he  alluded  to  the  destiny  of  bad 
portraits,  which,  in  the  succeeding  generation,  are 
thus  treated  with  neglect  and  contempt. 

I  have  heard  Sir  Joshua  say  that  at  the  time  when 
he  began  his  career  in  life  as  a  painter,  the  admiration 
of  the  works  of  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  was  so  prevalent 
in  England,  that  had  any  person  ventured  to  name 
those  of  Vandyke  in  competition  with  them,  the 
painters  then  living  would  have  laughed  him  to  scorn 
as  having  advanced  the  greatest  absurdity.  This 
instance  serves  to  prove  the  power  of  prejudice  and 
fashion,  which  we  often  see  so  abundantly  contribute 
to  prop  up  and  exalt  the  lauded  idol  of  the  day. 

Another  anecdote  (perhaps  curious  to  painters,)  Sir 
Joshua  used  to  relate,  which  he  heard  from  Mr. 
Jonathan  Richardson  the  portrait  painter. 

When  Richardson  was  a  very  young  man,  in  the 
course  of  liis  practice  he  painted  the  portrait  of  a 
very  old  lady,  who,  in  conversation  at  the  time  of  her 
sitting  to  him,  happened  to  mention,  that  when  she 
was  a  girl  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  she  sat  to  Van- 
dyke for  her  portrait.  This  immediately  raised  the 
curiosity  of  Richardson,  who  asked  a  hundred  ques- 
tions, many  of  them  unimportant:  however  the  cir- 
cumstance v^^hich  seemed  to  him  as  a  painter,  to  be  of 
the  most  consequence  in  the  information  he  gained 
was  this :  she  said,  she  well  remembered,  that,  at  the 
time  when  she  sat  to  Vandyke,  for  her  portrait,  and 
saw  his  pictures  in  his  gallery,  they  appeared  to  have 
a  white  and  raw  look,  in  comparison  with  the  mel- 
low and  rich  hue  which  we  now  see  in  them,  and 


193  MEMOIRS  OF 

which  time  alouc  must  have  given  to  them,  adding 
much  to  their  excellence. 

At  the  time  tliat  Gibbon's  Roman  History  was 
published,  it  was  the  fashion  to  admire  it  exceedingly. 
Edmund  J5urke  conversing  with  Sir  Joshua  upon  that 
work,  said,  '•  he  had  just  then  been  reading  it,  that 
he  disliked  the  style  of  writing,  that  it  was  very 
affected,  mere  frippery  and  tinsel." 

Upon  another  occasion,  Mr.  Edmund  Burke  when 
in  conversation  with  Sir  Joshua,  remarked  to  him  the 
peculiar  advantages  which  certain  situations  gave  to 
those  who  chose  to  make  use  of  them ;  "  for  instance, 
you,  Sir  Joshua,  from  your  character  and  the  oppor- 
tunities you  have  by  your  profession  of  being  so  much 
in  private  with  persons  of  the  highest  rank  and  power, 
at  moments,  also,  when  they  are  at  leisure  and  in  good 
humour,  might  obtain  favours  from  them  which  would 
give  you  a  patronage  almost  equal  to  that  of  a  prime 
minister." 

*^  There  is  some  truth  in  what  you  say,"  answered 
Sir  Joshua,  "  but  how  could  I  presume  to  ask  favours 
from  those  to  whom  I  became  known  only  by  my 
obligations  to  them?" 

The  earnest  desire  which  Sir  Joshua  had  to  render 
liis  pictures  perfect  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability,  and  in 
each  succeeding  instance  to  surpass  the  former,  oc- 
casioned his  frequently  making  them  inferior  to  what 
they  had  been  in  the  course  of  the  process,  and  when 
it  was  observed  to  him,  "  That  probably  he  never  had 
sent  out  to  the  world  any  one  of  his  paintings  in  as 
perfect  a  state  as  it  had  been ;"  he  answered,  that  he 
believed  the  remark  was  very  just;  but  that,  notwith- 
standing, he  certainly  gained  ground  by  it  on  the 
whole,  and  improved  himself  by  the  experiment:  add- 
ing, <'  If  you  are  not  bold  enough  to  run  the  risk  of 
losing,  you  can  never  hope  to  gain." 

With  the  same  ardent  wish  of  advancing  himself  in 
his  art,  I  have  heard  him  say,  that  whenever  a  new 
sitter  came  to  him  for  a  portrait,  he  always  began  it 
with  a  full  determination  to  make  it  the  best  picture 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I93 

he  had  ever  painted ;  neither  would  he  allow  it  to  be 
an  excuse  for  his  failure,  to  say,  '*  The  subject  was  a 
bad  one  for  a  picture ;"  there  was  always  nature,  he 
would  observe,  which,  if  well  treated,  was  fully  sufifi- 
cent  for  the  purpose. 

In  the  short  fragment  inserted  in  his  Memoir  by 
Mr.  Malone,  lie  expresses  himself  thus,  much  to  the 
same  purport:  '^^  My  success  and  continual  impiove- 
mentin  my  art,  (if  I  may  be  allowed  that  expression) 
may  be  ascribed,  in  a  good  measure,  to  a  principle 
which  I  will  boldly  recommend  to  imitation  ;  I  mean  a 
principle  of  honesty;  which,  in  this,  as  in  all  other 
instances,  is,  according  to  the  vulgar  proverb,  certain- 
ly the  best  policy.  I  always  endeavoured  to  do  my 
best.  Great  or  vulgar,  good  subjects  or  bad,  all  had 
nature ;  by  the  exact  representation  of  which,  or  even 
by  the  endeavour  to  give  such  a  representation,  the 
painter  cannot  but  improve  in  his  art.'^ 

It  was  one  of  Sir  Joshua's  favourite  maxims,  that 
all  the  gestures  of  children  are  graceful,  and  that  the 
reign  of  distortion  and  unnatural  attitude,  commences 
with  the  introduction  of  the  dancing  master.  He 
delighted  much  in  marking  the  damning  traits  of  the 
youthful  mind,  and  the  actions  and  bodily  movements 
even  of  infants ;  and  it  was  by  these  means  that  he  ac- 
quired the  ability  which  enabled  him  to  pourtray 
children  with  such  exquisite  happiness,  truth,  and 
variety.  A  circumstance,  as  related  by  himself,  occurs 
to  my  remembrance,  which  may  serve  to  prove  the 
truth  of  the  above  observation,  as  well  as  to  shew  how 
watchful  his  mind  was  to  catch  instruction  wherever 
it  was  to  be  gained. 

Sir  Joshua  being  in  company  with  a  party  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  who  were  viewing  a  nobleman's  house, 
they  passed  through  a  gallery  of  portraits,  when  a 
little  girl,  who  belonged  to  one  of  the  party,  attracted 
the  particular  attention  of  Sir  Joshua  by  her  vivacity 
and  the  sensible  drollery  of  her  observations;  for 
whenever  the  company  made  a  stand,  to  look  at  each 
portrait  in  particular,  the  child,  unconscious  of  being 


194  MEMOIRS  OF 

observed  by  any  one,  imitated,  by  her  actions,  the  air 
of  the  liead,  and  sometimes  awkward  effect  of  the  ill 
disposed  position  of  the  limbs  in  each  picture;  and 
this  she  did  with  so  much  innocence  and  true  feeling, 
that  it  was  the  most  just  and  incontrovertible  criticism 
that  could  be  made  on  the  picture. 

We  may  perceive,  by  this  instance,  that  those  parts 
of  the  art  which  are  its  essentials,  and  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  accomplish  with  tolerable  success,  namely, 
grace,  ease  of  attitude,  and  expression,  are  qualities 
which  lie  open  to  the  knowledge  and  judgment  of  the 
most  simple  and  untaught  persons,  in  a  much  greater 
degree  than  to  the  half  learned  connoisseur. 

The  many  trifles  which  I  have  here  related,  I  fear 
make  me  liable  to  the  censure  of  ray  judicious  reader, 
and  most  of  those  trifles  probably  had  much  better 
have  been  omitted ;  but  as  it  is  all  truth,  and  several 
of  the  circumstances  are  worth  preserving,  I  was  un- 
willing to  make  myself  the  judge,  by  a  selection,  and 
therefore,  having  risked  the  danger  of  giving  too 
many,  least  I  should  have  fallen  into  the  worse  fault 
of  giving  too  few:  and  I  have  also  an  apology  for 
what  I  have  done,  and  which  I  here  give  in  the  very 
words  of  that  great  prelate.  Seeker,  in  his  tenth  ser- 
mon, wliere  he  has  the  following  passage,  "  Rabbi 
David  Kimclii,  a  noted  Jewish  commentator,  who 
lived  about  five  hundred  years  ago,  explains  that 
passage  in  his  first  psalm,  '  His  haf  shall  not  wither,' 
from  Rabbins  yet  older  than  himself,  thus :  that  even 
the  idle  talk  (so  he  expresses  it,)  of  a  good  man  ought 
to  be  regarded  ;  the  most  superfluous  things,  he  saith, 
are  always  of  some  value." 

I  shall,  therefore,  boldly  proceed  on  such  authority, 
even  if  ray  good  reader  be  fatigued  by  ray  relating 
those  minute  and  petty  matters,  but  which  have  dwelt 
in  my  memory  from  the  time  I  left  the  house  of  Sir 
Joshua,  and  which,  probably,  appear  more  important 
to  my  mind,  as  I  have  before  observed,  than  they  can 
to  another,  from  their  connection  with  that  period  of 
mv  vouth. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I95 

It  was  an  opinion  of  liis,  that  a«  it  is  impossible  for 
us  to  do  hurt  to  the  dead,  therefore  we  may  hold  up 
their  imperfections  to  view,  as  an  example  for  others 
to  avoid  the  like,  and  by  this  means  do  good  to  the 
living.  If  we  owe  regard  (says  Johnson)  to  the  niem= 
ory  of  the  dead,  there  is  yet  more  respect  to  be  paid  to 
knowledge,  to  virtue,  and  to  truth. 

On  speaking  to  him  concerning  a  friend  of  his,  who 
was  dying  of  a  lingering  disease,  for  which  he  was 
sensible  there  was  no  possible  cure,  it  was  remarked 
of  this  person,  that  his  situation  seemed  to  excite  in 
him  the  utmost  degree  of  impatience  and  terror,  and 
that  he  appeared  like  a  criminal  under  sentence  of 
deatli.  Sir  Joshua  observed,  ^^  That  we  are  all  under 
sentence  of  death ;  but  tliat  his  warrant  was  signed.'' 

It  was  an  observation  of  his,  that  it  had  a  bad 
tendency  to  look  at  works  worse  than  our  own,  as  it 
might  make  us  too  easily  content  with  our  own  pro- 
ductions,  or  else  deaden  our  ardor  for  the  art  itself. 
The  exact  reverse  to  this  is  the  consequence  from 
viewing  fine  pictures. 

It  was  his  opinion,  that  it  never  did  a  painter  much 
credit  to  have  no  other  pictures  than  his  own  in  a  col- 
lection, as  it  became  tiresome  to  the  spectator  from 
the  want  of  variety,  and  also,  that  the  painter's  pecu- 
liar defects  became  more  conspicnous  by  seeing  them 
so  often  repeated. 

Sir  Joshua  used  to  say,  that  he  could  instruct  any 
boy  that  chance  should  throw  in  his  way,  to  be  able 
in  half  a  year  to  paint  a  likeness  in  a  portrait ;  but  to 
give  a  just  expression  and  true  character  to  the  picture 
was  rare  to  be  seen,  and  proved  the  great  master :  and 
of  Velasquez  the  celebrated  Spanish  painter,  of  whose 
great  powers  he  thought  so  favourably,  he  said, 
"  What  we  are  all  attempting  to  do  with  great  labour, 
he  does  at  once.''* 

A  friend  of  his  was  relating  to  him  the  ill  success 
of  an  indifl'erent  painter  in  the  country,  who,  by  his 
caricature  likenesses,  enraged  his  sitters,  and  more 
especially  the  ladies,  as  much  as  if  lie  had  really 

Dd 


196  MEMOIRS  OF 

matle  them  in  their  own  persons,  as  they  were  in  tlieir 
portraits,  and  this  he  observed  seemed  to  be  carrying 
their  anger  too  far. 

"  Why  you  know,"  said  Sir  Joshua,  "  he  has 
given  it  under  his  hand  that  they  are  so." 

A  very  bad  picture,  which  by  the  professor  was 
thought  to  be  of  great  value,  w  as  offered  to  him  for 
his  purchase,  and  the  price  demanded  for  it  most 
absurdly  was  two  hundred  guineas,  when  he  answer- 
ed, with  some  degree  of  impatience,  "  Why  not  two 
thousand !" 

In  conversation  once  with  Sir  Joshua,  he  said  in 
the  way  of  advice,  that  "  He  who  would  arrive  at 
eminence  in  his  profession  should  coniine  his  whole 
attention  to  that  alone,  and  not  do  as  many  very 
sensible  men  have  done,  who  spend  their  time  in 
acquiring  a  smattering  and  general  kind  of  knowledge 
of  every  science,  by  w  hich  their  powers  become  so 
much  divided,  that  they  are  not  masters  of  any  one." 
1  said  hastily,  '^  That  is  exactly  my  own  father."  He 
replied,  "  And  it  was  mine  also." 

A  young  painter  who  was  showing  his  performance 
to  him  in  order  to  have  his  opinion  and  instruction 
upon  it,  when  the  faults  were  pointed  out  to  him,  ex- 
cused himself  by  saying  he  had  committed  the  error 
by  following  the  dictates  of  his  employer  whom  he 
wished  to  please.  Sir  Joshua  would  not  allow  such  a 
reason  to  be  a  palliation  of  his  faults,  adding,  "  It  is 
you  who  are  to  understand  your  own  business,  and 
not  your  employer."  Yet  he  would  never  willingly 
offer  advice,  unless  he  perceived  the  mind  of  the  per- 
son, v.'ho  asked  it,  was  earnestly  engaged  on  their 
sul)ject:  otherwise,  he  said  it  was  lost  labour,  and  that 
instruction  went  in  at  one  ear  and  out  at  the  other. 

The  following  observations  by  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, weie  the  result  of  many  conversations,  or  from 
fragments  written  by  himself. 

"  The  great  principle  of  being  happy  in  this  world 
is  not  to  regard  or  be  affected  with  small  things." 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  497 

<•  No  man  relishes  an  evening  walk  like  hi  in  whose 
mind  has  been  employed  the  whole  preceding  day."" 

"  Polite  behaviour  and  a  refined  address,  like  good 
pictures,  make  the  least  sliow  to  ordinary  eyes." 

^^  Humility  is  not  to  despise  any  thing,  especially 
mankind." 

"  Magnanimity  is  not  to  be  disturbed  at  any 
thing." 

"  The  man  is  a  pedant  who,  having  been  brought 
up  among  books,  is  able  to  talk  of  nothing  else. 
The  same  of  a  soldier,  lawyer,  painter,  &c." 

"  Natural,  is  that  which  is  according  to  the  com- 
mon course  of  things,  consequently  an  ugly  face  is  an 
unnatural  face." 

"  The  character  of  a  nation  is  perhaps  more 
strongly  marked  by  their  taste  in  painting,  than  in 
any  other  pursuit,  although  more  considerable;  as 
you  may  easier  find  which  way  the  wind  sits  by 
throwing  up  a  straw  iu  the  air  than  any  heavier 
substance." 

"  Rules  are  very  necessary  to,  but  will  never 
make,  a  painter,  lliey  should  be  used  as  servants, 
and  subject  to  us,  not  we  to  them." 

"  In  painting  prefer  truth  before  freedom  of  hand." 

"  Grandeur  is  composed  of  straight  lines." 

"  Grenteelness  and  elegance  of  serpentine  lines. ^' 

^'  A  firm  and  determined  manner  is  grand,  but  not 
elegant." 

^*  Genteelness  is  not  being  crowded,  especially  if 
there  is  a  fullness  at  the  same  time." 

^'  Air  is  a  single  moment  of  any  action." 

"  Simplicity  is  an  exact  medium  between  too  little 
and  too  much." 

"  Grace  is  the  medium  of  motion,  beauty  is  the 
medium  of  form,  and  genteelness  the  medium  of  the 
fashion." 

^'  Ornament  is  the  medium  between  wanting  what  is 
necessary,  and  being  over-furnished." 

*♦  Ornament  ought  to  arise  only  from  the  right  or- 
dering of  thina;s.    Orno  is  Latin  for  ^  to  furnish."  " 


198  MEMOIRS  OF 

'^  Manner  in  paiutiiic;  is  like  peculiarity  of  be- 
haviour; though  it  may  please  a  few,  tiie  bulk  of 
mankind  will  condemn  it.*' 

"  The  only  wa^es  a  real  genius  thinks  of  in  his 
labour,  is  the  praise  of  impartial  judges.*' 

^'  A  good  portrait  painter  may  not  be  capable  of 
painting  history.*' 

^'  But  an  historical  painter  for  certain  has  the  abili- 
ty to  paint  portrait." 

I  shall  now  resume  my  narrative. 

In  Sir  Joshua's  seventh  discourse,  delivered  on  the 
tenth  of  December,  as  usual,  in  this  year,  his  olrject 
was  to  prove  the  existence  of  a  real  standard  of  taste; 
this  he  considered  as  absolute  as  one  for  corporeal 
beauty,  and  as  an  immutable  truth  in  itself,  althougii, 
at  the  game  time,  it  did  not  preclude  the  existence  of 
certain  variable  and  secondary  truths,  diifering  ac- 
cording to  circumstances,  in  their  influence  as  well  as 
in  their  stability,  and  therefore  particularly  requiring 
the  artist's  close  attention. 

At  the  commencement  of  this  oration,  he  again  re- 
commended industry  most  strenuously  to  the  students; 
but  w  ith  this  happy  distinction,  that  it  was  not  "  the 
industry  of  tiie  hands,  but  of  the  mind.--  He  then 
marked  the  precise  definition  of  the  art  itself,  which, 
though  '"'  not  a  divine  gift,  so  neither  is  it  a  mechani- 
cal trade,'*  considering  its  foundation  as  resting  on 
solid  science,  but  still  insisting  that  practice,  althongh 
essential  to  perfection,  would  never  arrive  at  its  aim 
unless  directed  by  a  judicious  principle. 

As  great  learning  is  not  absolutely  necessary  for  a 
painter,  he  recommended  his  youthful  hearers  not  to 
be  terrified  at  tiie  want  of  it,  but  still  to  keep  in  mind 
that  a  certain  degree  of  cultivation,  such  as  was  in 
their  power,  was  nevertheless  essential ;  and  he  there- 
fore pointed  out  the  propriety  of  being  tolerably  con- 
versant with  the  poets,  even  in  Englisii,  so  as  to  im- 
bibe a  poetical  spirit,  of  adopting  a  habit  of  acquiring 
and  digesting  ideas,  and  of  obtaining  some  knowledge 
of  that  part  of  philosophy  which  gives  an  insight  into 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  I99 

human  nature,  as  connected  with  the  manners,  char- 
acters, passions,  and  affections ;  in  short,  that  a  painter 
"  ought  to  know  something  concerning  the  mind,  as 
well  as  a  g;reat  deal  concerning  the  body  of  man" — a 
truth  which  lie  more  fully  exemplified  in  another  part 
of  the  discourse,  saying,  that,  '^  in  fact,  as  he  who 
does  not  know  himself,  does  not  know  others,  so  it 
may  be  said,  with  equal  truth,  that  he  who  does  not 
know  others,  knows  himself  but  very  imperfectly." 

For  this  great  end,  he  recommended  reading  as  the 
recreation  of  leisure  hours ;  and  that  the  student  (agree- 
able to  his  own  custom)  should  supply  wliat  partial 
and  desultory  reading  cannot  afford  by  the  conversa- 
tion of  learned  and  ingenious  men,  which  he  consider- 
ed as  the  best  of  all  substitutes  for  those  who  have  not 
the  means  or  opportunities  of  deep  study. 

Of  these  studies,  and  of  this  conversation,  added 
Sir  Joshua,  the  desire  and  legitimate  offspring  is  a 
power  of  distinguishing  right  from  wrong;  which 
power,  when  applied  to  works  of  art,  he  considered  to 
be  that  which  the  world  calls  '^  taste."  lie  then  pro- 
ceeded to  examine,  whether  taste  is  so  far  beyond 
human  reach  as  to  be  unattainable  with  care,  or  so 
very  vague  and  capricious  that  no  care  ought  to  be 
employed  about  it. 

To  follow  him  through  this  investigation  would  be 
far  beyond  my  proposed  limits;  though  it  may  be 
noticed,  that  he  laid  it  down  as  an  axiom,  that  al- 
though Genius  and  Taste,  in  their  common  accepta- 
tion, appear  to  be  very  nearly  related,  as  "  the  dif- 
ference lies  only  in  tiiis,  that  genius  has  superadded 
to  it  a  habit  or  power  of  execution  :  or  we  may  say, 
that  taste,  when  this  power  is  added,  changes  its  name 
and  is  called  genius, — still  is  the  popular  opinion 
most  absurd,  that  they  may  both  claim  an  entire  ex- 
emption from  the  restraint  of  rules;  that  their  powers 
are  intuitive ;  and  that,  under  the  name  of  genius  great 
works  are  produced,  and  under  the  name  of  taste  an 
exact  judgment  is  given,  without  our  knowing  why, 


200  MEMOIRS  OF 

and  without  our  being  under  the  least  obligation  to 
reason,  precept,  or  experience." 

After  speaking  of  taste  in  general,  he  applied  it  to 
the  art  in  its  various  particulars,  observing,  that  it  is 
reason  and  good  sense  vvhicli  rank  and  estimate  every 
art,  and  every  part  of  that  art,  according  to  its  im- 
portance, from  the  painter  of  animated,  down  to  inani- 
mate, nature;  but  he  protested  against  any  man  who 
shall  prefer  the  inferior  style,  saying,  that  it  is  his 
taste ;  for  here  taste  has  nothing,  or,  at  least,  ought  to 
have  nothing,  to  do  with  the  question — "  he  wants  not 
taste,  but  sense  and  soundness  of  judgment." 

In  avoiding  one  extreme  of  opinion,  however.  Sir 
Joshua  did  not  commit  the  frequent  error  of  adopting 
its  opposite;  but  still  acknowledged  that  a  part  of  taste 
does  not  absolutely  belong  to  the  external  form  of 
things,  but  is  addressed  to  the  mind,  and  actually  de- 
pends on  its  original  frame,  or,  as  he  expressed  him- 
self, "  the  organization  of  tJic  soul ;  I  mean  tlie  im- 
agination and  the  passions"- — but  then  he  contended, 
that  the  principles  of  these  are  as  invariable  as  the 
former,  and  are  to  be  known  and  reasoned  upon  in  the 
same  manner,  by  an  appeal  to  common  sense  deciding 
upon  the  common  feelings  of  mankind. 

In  his  enthusiasm  for  the  art  itself,  Sir  Joshua 
never  lost  sight  of  its  highest  advantages  in  its  bearing 
upon  the  minds  of  mankind  wherever  it  was  culti- 
vated ;  and  in  this  very  discourse  he  noticed,  that  it 
has  been  often  observed,  that  the  good  and  virtuous 
man  alone  can  acquire  this  true  or  just  relish  even  of 
works  of  art ;  an  opinion  which  he  considered  as  well 
founded,  when  we  reflect  that  the  same  habit  of  mind 
which  is  acquired  by  our  search  after  truth  in  the 
more  serious  duties  of  life,  is  only  transferred  to  the 
pursuit  of  lighter  amusements;  that  the  same  disposi- 
tion, the  same  desire  to  find  something  steady,  sub- 
stantial, and  durable,  on  which  the  mind  can  lean,  as 
it  were,  and  rest  with  safety,  actuates  us  in  both  cases ; 
and,  as  he  adds,  that  the  subject  only  is  changed,  but 
that  we  pursue  the  same  method  in  our  search  after 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  «0l 

the  idea  of  beauty  and  perfection  in  each;  "  of  virtue, 
by  looking  forwards  beyond  ourselves  to  society,  and 
to  the  whole;  of  arts,  by  extending  our  views  in  the 
same  manner  to  all  ages  and  all  times." 

Tlie  truths  with  which  he  closed  this  brilliant  dis- 
course are  too  important  to  mankind  in  general  not  to 
be  repeated  here ;  for  Sir  Joshua  always  had  the 
power,  as  well  as  the  desire,  of  rendering  art  useful 
to  morals.  "  The  true  spirit  of  philosopliy,"  said  he, 
*^  by  giving  knowledge,  gives  a  manly  confidence,  and 
substitutes  rational  firmness  in  the  place  of  vain  pre- 
sumption. A  man  of  real  taste  is  always  a  man  of 
judgment  in  other  respects;  and  those  inventions 
which  either  disdain,  or  shrink  from,  reason,  are 
generally,  I  fear,  more  like  the  dreams  of  a  distemper- 
ed brain,  than  the  exalted  enthusiasm  of  a  sound  and 
true  genius.  In  the  midst  of  the  highest  flights  of 
fancy  or  imagination,  reason  ought  to  preside  from 
first  to  last,  though  I  admit  her  more  powerful  opera- 
tion is  upon  reflection !" 

Of  the  year  1777  I  have  little  to  record  concerning 
Sir  Joshua  from  my  own  knowledge,  as,  at  that  time, 
I  was  not  in  London.  A  poetical  epistle,  about  this 
period,  had  been  printed,  addressed  to  him,  in  which, 
whilst  praising  a  portrait  of  Lord  Amherst,  the  poet 
says  something  about  the  fleetiness  of  his  colours, 
when  he  good-humouredly  observed,  in  answer,  tliat 
it  must  be  acknowledged,  then,  that  he  came  oft*  with 
flying  colours. 

This  poem,  in  addition  to  its  mixture  of  praise,  and 
of  a  certain  portion  of  implied  censure,  also  offered 
Sir  Joshua  some  advice,  recommending  to  him  the 
further  painting  of  Burke  and  Grarrick ;  a  hint  which 
was  totally  unnecessary  both  to  the  wishes  and  the 
genius  of  the  artist  and  the  friend. 

In  1778  Sir  Joshua  published  his  Seven  Dis- 
courses, with  a  Dedication  to  his  Majesty,  of  which  it 
was  aptly  said  at  the  time,  that  it  was  a  model  to 
dedicators,  and  a  hint  both  to  v/riters  and  painters, 


202  MEMOIRS  OF 

that  a  portrait  may  he  well  drawn,  without  bein* 
varnished,  and  highly  coloured  without  being  dauheJ. 

The  most  prominent  feature  in  it  runs  thus: — 
"  The  regular  progress  of  cultivated  life  is  from 
necessaries  to  accommodations,  from  accommodations 
to  ornaments. 

*•*  By  your  illustrious  predecessors  were  established 
Marts  for  Manufjictures,  and  Colleges  for  Science; 
but  for  the  Arts  of  Elegance,  those  Arts  by  which 
Manufactures  are  improved  and  Science  refined,  to 
found  an  Academy  was  reserved  for  your  Majesty. 

'*  Had  such  patronage  been  without  effect,  there 
had  been  reason  to  believe  that  nature  had,  by 
some  insurmountable  impediment,  obstructed  our  pro- 
ficiency ;  but  the  annual  exhibitions,  which  your 
Majesty  has  been  pleased  to  encourage,  show  that 
only  encouragement  had  been  wanting. 

*'  To  give  advice  to  those  who  are  contending  for 
royal  liherality,  has  been,  for  some  years,  the  duty  of 
my  station  in  the  Academy;  and  these  discourses  hope 
for  your  Majesty's  acceptance,  as  well  intended  en- 
deavours to  excite  the  emulation  which  your  notice 
has  kindled,  and  to  direct  those  studies  which  vour 
bounty  has  rewarded. 

"•  S'mt  Jloecenates  non  deerunt  Marones.^" — 

I  think  it  has  already  been  observed,  that  at  all  the 
times  when  Sir  Joshua  delivered  his  discourses  to  the 
Koyal  Academy,  the  audience  was  very  numerous, 
being  composed  of  the  learned  and  the  great,  as  well 
as  those  engaged  in  the  study  of  the  arts. 

A  gold  medal  was  presented  once  in  every  two 
years  hy  the  Royal  Academy,  as  a  prize  for  the  best 
historical  picture,  to  be  painted  by  a  student  of  the 
Academy. 

A  young  painter  who  had  made  several  different 
designs  for  the  composition  of  the  story  he  was  about 
to  execute  in  order  to  his  becoming  a  candidate, 
brought  his  sketches  to  Sir  Joshua,  to  consult  with 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  SO3 

him  and  have  his  opinion  as  to  which  was  tlie  best  iu 
point  of  sentiment,  or  most  clear  in  explaining  the 
history. 

Sir  Joshua's  answer  was  to  this  effect :  "  You  may 
choose  whichever  you  please ;  it  will  turn  out  precisely 
the  same ;  you  are  to  recollect  that  your  picture  is  to 
be  judged  of  by  painters  only.  It  will  be  the  manual 
execution  of  the  work,  and  that  alone  which  will 
engross  the  attention  of  Artists,  and  the  degree  of 
merit  displayed  in  that  part  of  the  art  is  what  will 
determine  them  in  their  election  of  the  candidate  for 
the  prize. 

"  It  is  no  matter  how  long  or  how  short  the  time 
may  have  been  in  which  you  have  done  the  work ;  or 
with  how  much  difficulty,  or  with  how  much  ease  you 
have  accomplished  it.  The  result  alone  is  to  be  con- 
sidered." 

This  is  quite  consistent  with  some  observations  in 
the  fragments  preserved  by  Mr.  Malone,  where  he 
says,  "  My  principal  labour  was  employed  on  the 
whole  together ;  and  I  was  never  weary  of  changing, 
and  trying  different  modes  and  different  effects.  I 
had  always  some  scheme  in  my  mind,  and  a  perpetual 
desire  to  advance.  By  constantly  endeavouring  to  do 
my  best,  I  acquired  a  power  of  doing  that  with  spon- 
taneous facility,  Avhicli  at  first  was  the  effort  of  my 
whole  mind ;  and  my  reward  was  threefold ;  the  satis- 
faction resulting  from  acting  on  this  first  principle, 
improvement  in  my  art,  and  the  pleasure  derived 
from  a  constant  pursuit  after  excellence." 

In  this  year  he  painted  one  of  his  best  portraits  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  who  observes  of  it  in  a  letter  to  Mrs. 
Thrale,  "  I  have  twice  sat  to  Sir  Joshua,  and  he 
seems  to  like  his  own  performance.  He  has  projected 
another  in  which  I  am  to  be  busy ;  but  we  can  think 
on  it  at  leisure" — and  in  a  subsequent  epistle  he  adds, 
*'  Sir  Joshua  has  finished  my  picture,  and  it  seems  to 
please  every  body,  but  I  sliall  wait  till  I  see  how  it 
pleases  you." 

E  e 


,^04.  MExMOlRS  OF 

la  this  strict  intimacy  so  long  kept  up  with  Dr. 
Johnson,  Sir  Joshua  seems  to  have  considered  him- 
self as  enjoying  hoth  pleasure  and  advantage;  and 
upon  one  occasion,  whilst  conversing  with  a  friend 
upon  the  strictness  with  which  Johnson  inculcated  to 
all  his  acquaintance  the  importance  of  perpetual  vigi- 
lence  against  the  slightest  degi*ee  of  falsehood,  he 
observed  that  the  effect  had  been,  that  all  who  were  of 
his  school  were  distinguished  for  a  love  of  truth  and 
accuracy,  w  hich  they  might  not  have  possessed  in  the 
same  degree,  if  they  had  not  been  acquainted  with 
Johnson. 

Sir  Joshua's  regard  for  the  memory  of  his  departed 
friend  Goldsmith  is  properly  recorded  by  Boswcll  in 
a  conversation  which  took  place  at  this  period,  at  a 
dinner  party  at  his  house.  When  talking  of  the 
"  Traveller"  he  said,  ^'  I  was  glad  to  hear  Charles 
Fox  say,  it  was  one  of  the  finest  poems  in  the  English 
language.''  Mr.  Langton  then  asked.  "  Why  were 
you  glad?  you  surely  had  no  doubt  of  this  before;"  to 
which  Johnson  added,  *^  No !  the  merit  of  the  Travel- 
ler is  so  well  established,  that  Mr.  Fox's  praise  can- 
not augment  it,  nor  his  censure  diminish  it;"  when, 
with  great  modesty.  Sir  Joshua  replied,  "  but  his 
friends  may  suspect  they  had  too  great  a  partiality  for 
him." 

Speaking  of  this  conversation  afterwards,  Johnson 
seemed  to  display  some  little  jealousy  at  Sir  Joshua's 
friendship  with  the  heads  of  a  party  to  which  his  o\vn 
politics  were  inimical,  for  he  said,  '•'  Yes,  Sir,  I 
knocked  Fox  on  the  head,  without  ceremony.  Rey- 
nolds is  too  much  under  Fox  and  Burke  at  present. 
He  is  under  the  Fox  Star,  and  the  Irish  Constella- 
tion. He  is  always  under  some  planet;" — but  the 
truth  is,  that  Sir  Joshua  never  attempted  to  borrow 
light  from  any  political  or  scientific  luminary,  how- 
ever brilliant;  for,  to  carry  on  the  metaphor,  'twas 
his  own  powerful  attraction  that  brought  him  and 
them  into  the  same  sphere. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ^05 

However,  he  had  soon  after  an  opportunity  of  re- 
turning the  retort,  when  Johnson,  talking  of  a  phrase 
of  Garriek's,  who  called  Lord  Camden  a  ^^  little  law- 
yer,'' at  the  time  he  was  boasting  of  his  acquaintance, 
said,  "  Well,  Sir,  Garrick  talked  very  properly. 
Lord  Camden  was  a  little  lawyer  to  be  associaling  so 
familiarly  with  a  player;"  on  which,  as  Mr.  Boswell 
says.  Sir  Joshua  observed,  and  with  great  truth, 
*'  that  Johnson  considered  Garrick  to  be,  as  it  were, 
his  property,  and  that  he  would  allow  no  man  eitiier 
to  blame  or  to  praise  Garrick  in  his  presence,  without 
contradicting  him." 

Another  conversation  about  this  time,  recorded  by 
Mr.  Boswell,  is  so  descriptive  of  Sir  Joshua's  mild, 
yet  persevering  manner,  in  argumentative,  yet  friendly 
discourse,  that  I  should  not  feel  myself  at  liberty  to 
omit  it. 

Whilst  dining  at  General  Paoli's,  the  subject  of 
wine  drinking  was  introduced,  which  Sir  Joshua  de.. 
fended,  and  Boswell  at  that  time  drinking  water  in 
imitation  of  Johnson,  the  latter  exclaimed,  "  Boswell 
is  a  bolder  combatant  than  Sir  Joshua:  he  argues  for 
wine  without  the  help  of  wine;  but  Sir  Joshua  with 
it."  Sir  Joshua  replied,  "  But  to  please  one's  com- 
pany is  a  strong  motive ;"  when  Johnson,  then  sup- 
posing the  whole  company  to  be  a  little  elevated,  ex- 
claimed, "  I  won't  argue  any  more  with  you.  Sir :  you 
are  too  far  gone;"  to  which  he  mildly  answered,  ''  I 
should  have  thought  so  indeed.  Sir,  had  I  made  such 
a  speech  as  you  have  now  done."  On  this  Johnsou 
drew  himself  up,  blushing,  as  Boswell  describes  it^ 
and  said,  "  Nay,  don't  be  angry,  I  did  not  mean  to 
offend  you." 

Sir  Joshua  then  observed,  "  At  first  the  taste  of 
wine  was  disagreeable  to  me ;  but  I  brought  myself  to 
drink  it,  that  I  might  be  like  other  people.  The 
pleasure  of  drinking  wine  is  so  connected  with  pleas- 
ing your  company,  that  altogether  there  is  something 
of  social  goodness  in  it."  As  this  touched  upon  John, 
son's  own  peculiarity  he  felt  it,  and,  though  iuaccu- 


206  MEMOIRS  OF 

rately,  complained  that  it  was  not  only  saying  the 
same  thing  over  again. 

On  another  occasion  Sir  Joshua  shewed  his  habit 
and  facility  of  judging  of  character,  for  whilst  con- 
versing about  Johnson  in  his  absence,  Boswell  said, 
that  his  power  of  reasoning  was  very  strong,  and  that 
he  had  a  peculiar  art  of  drawing  characters,  which  was 
as  rare  as  good  portrait  painting.  "  Yes,"  replied  Sir 
Joshua,  "  he  is  undoubtedly  admirable  in  this  ;  but  in 
order  to  mark  the  characters  which  he  draws,  he 
overcharges  them,  and  gives  people  more  than  they 
really  have,  whether  of  good  or  bad." 

Another  proof  of  Sir  Joshua's  nice  discrimination 
of  characters  is  seen  in  the  distinction  he  makes  be- 
tween true  politeness  and  the  affectation  of  it,  and 
clearly  given  by  him  in  the  instance  of  two  noblemen, 
to  whom  he  paid  a  morning  visit  on  a  Sunday.  The 
first  that  he  paid  his  respects  to  received  him  with 
extraordinary  affected  condescension,  and  seemed  very 
desirous  to  please,  talked  to  him  the  whole  time  on 
nothing  but  his  art,  in  order  to  give  him  a  fair  oppor- 
tunity of  appearing  to  the  most  advantage,  and  ob- 
served to  him,  that  he  had  requested  the  pleasure  of 
this  visit  on  a  Sunday  that  he  might  not  occasion  his 
losing  that  time  which,  on  other  days,  could  be  so 
jnuch  better  employed. 

After  quitting  this  nobleman,  he  paid  his  next  visit 
to  another,  (I  think  it  was  Lord  Chesterfield,)  who, 
unlike  the  first,  received  him  with  the  same  freedom 
as  if  he  had  been  his  equal,  never  once  spoke  upon 
the  subject  of  art,  nor  observed  that  Sunday  was  the 
day  of  rest  for  the  laborious ;  but  discoursed  on  the 
news  and  the  occurrences  of  the  day,  and  on  such 
other  topics  as  a  gentleman  of  education  is  supposed 
to  be  acquainted  with,  and  no  word  escaped  him  that 
denoted  his  recollection  of  any  difference  in  their 
stations. 

This  anecdote  was  related  to  me  by  Sir  Joshua 
himself  many  years  after  the  occurrence,  as  an  in- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  207 

stance  that  had  struck  him  very  forcibly  as  a  fine 
contrast. 

The  perspicuity  and  clearness  of  Sir  Joshua's 
judgment  was  evident  in  all  his  conversation,  and 
another  little  instance  is  thus  given  in  his  own  words 
from  a  fragment  written  in  his  own  hand. 

"  Josiah  Tucker,  Dean  of  Gloucester,  at  a  meeting 
of  the  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts,  Manu- 
factures, and  Commerce,  said,  that  he  thought  a  pin- 
maker  was  a  more  useful  and  valuable  member  of 
society  than  Rajffaelle. 

"  This  is  an  observation  of  a  very  narrow  mind ; 
a  mind  that  is  contined  to  the  mere  object  of  commerce, 
that  sees  with  a  microscopic  eye  but  a  part  of  the  great 
machine  of  the  economy  of  life,  and  thinks  that  small 
part  which  he  sees  to  be  the  whole.  Commerce  is  t!ie 
means,  not  the  end,  of  happiness  or  pleasure:  the  end 
is  a  rational  enjoyment  of  life,  by  means  of  arts  and 
sciences ;  it  is,  therefore,  the  liighest  degree  of  folly  to 
set  the  means  in  a  higher  rank  of  esteem  than  the  ac- 
complished end.  It  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  the 
brick-maker  is  a  more  useful  member  of  society  than 
the  architect  who  employs  him.  The  usefulness  of  the 
brick-maker  is  acknowledged,  but  the  rank  of  him 
and  the  architect  are  very  different.  No  man  deserves 
better  of  mankind  than  he  who  has  the  art  of  opening 
sources  of  intellectual  pleasure  and  instruction  by 
means  of  the  senses." 

It  is  not  to  be  understood  from  this  anecdote  that 
Sir  Joshua  was  apt  to  over-rate  the  degree  of  his 
profession  in  respect  to  its  rank  in  society.  The  fol- 
lowing circumstance  will  show  how  just  a  view  he 
had  of  its  comparative  importance. 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  had  as  great  a  portion  of 
enthusiasm  for  his  art,  as  any  man  can  have  for  the 
study  which  he  may  have  adopted ;  and,  indeed,  with- 
out this  stimulus  nothing  great  or  diflBcult  can  be  ac- 
complished :  yet  he  was  totally  free  from  that  weak- 
ness so  commonly  found  among  professional  men,  of 
over-rating  either  the  rank,  value,  or  importance  of  his 


SOS  MEMOIRS  OF 

profession.  He  felt  it  as  a  duty  to  excel  in  the  de- 
partment which  he  had  undertaken :  he  relied  upon  it 
entirely,  as  his  great  source  of  support  and  honour, 
his  bulwark  and  preserver ;  but  he  did  not  expect  or 
require,  as  a  thing  of  course,  that  others  should  see  it 
in  the  same  view :  it  was  of  high  consequence  to  liini ; 
but  not  equally  so  to  them.  The  plank  which  saves  a 
man  from  drowning  becomes  to  him  of  more  value 
than  a  first  rate  man  of  war,  yet  he  does  not  expect 
that  others  should  look  on  it  as  of  the  same  degree  of 
importance.  Hence  Sir  Jo^liua  alwajs  considered 
this  professional  kind  of  mania  as  a  species  of  pedan- 
try, and  thought  a  certain  eminent  professor  of  the 
science  of  music  very  absurd  who,  when  he  related  a 
circumstance  of  three  great  musicians  having  been  in- 
troduced at  the  court  of  a  prince,  said  *•  these  three 
great  personages  were  presented,''  a  term  only  ap- 
plicable to  persons  of  high  rank  in  society. 

It  has  often  been  remarked  that  the  king  never 
commissioned  Sir  Joshua  for  a  single  picture ;  indeed 
he  never  sat  to  him  but  once,  when  his  portrait  was 
painted  by  him  for  the  Royal  Academy. 

Soon  after  that  picture  was  finished,  Sir  Joshua  went 
down  on  a  visit  to  Dr.  Warton  at  Winchester  College, 
where  he  was  particularly  noticed  by  their  Majesties, 
who  were  then  making  a  tour  through  the  summer 
encampments,  having  taken  Winchester  in  their  route. 

In  Dr.  Warton's  biography,  some  of  the  particulars 
of  this  visit  are  entered  into;  his  house  being  stated  at 
that  period  to  have  been  filled  with  men,  some  of 
whom  were  of  high  and  acknowledged  talents  ; 
amongst  others,  in  addition  to  Sir  Joshua,  were  the 
late  Lord  Palmerston,  Messrs.  Stanley  and  Warton, 
and  Mr.  Garrick;  a  whimsical  accident  is  stated  to 
have  occurred  to  the  latter  at  one  of  the  reviews,  and 
which  Sir  Joshua  afterwards  recounted  with  great 
humour. 

At  one  of  those  field  days  in  the  vicinity,  Garrick 
found  it  necessaiy  to  dismount,  when  his  horse  es- 
caped from  his  hold  and  ran  off;  throwing  himself 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  209 

immediately  into  his  professioDal  attitude  he  cried  out, 
as  if  on  Bosworth  field,  "  A  horse !  a  horse !  my  king- 
dom for  a  horse !" 

This  exclamation,  and  the  accompanying  attitude, 
excited  great  amazement  amongst  the  surrounding 
spectators,  who  knew  him  not;  but  it  could  not  escape 
his  Majesty's  quick  apprehension,  for  it  being  within 
his  hearing,  he  immediately  said,  "  Those  must  be 
the  tones  of  Garrick !  see  if  he  is  not  on  the  ground/"' 
The  theatrical  and  dismounted  monarch  was  imme- 
diately brought  to  his  Majesty,  who  not  only  condoled 
with  him  most  good  humouredly  on  his  misfortune, 
but  flatteringly  added,  "  that  his  delivery  of  Shaks- 
peare  could  never  pass  undiscovered." 

Of  any  further  incidents  relative  to  art,  connected 
with  the  biography  of  Sir  Joshua  during  this  year,  I 
need  only  mention,  that  Mr.  Score,  a  native  of  Devon- 
shire, was  his  pupil  about  this  time,  and  that  on  the 
10th  of  December,  as  usual,  the  president  delivered 
bis  eighth  discourse. 

In  this  he  laid  it  down  as  a  truth,  that  all  the 
principles  both  of  painting  and  poetry  have  their 
foundation  in  the  human  mind;  that  novelty  and  con- 
trast, however  necessary,  must  still  become  defects, 
if  carried  to  excess ;  and  that  even  simplicity  itself 
might  be  overstrained. 

These  points  he  generally  illustrated,  as  emanating 
from  the  mind  itself,  by  stating,  that  as  variety  reani- 
mates the  attention,  which  is  apt  to  languish  under  a 
continual  sameness,  so  novelty  makes  a  more  forcible 
impression  on  the  mind,  than  can  be  produced  by  the 
representation  of  what  we  have  often  seen  before, 
whilst  contrast  stimulates  the  power  of  comparison  by 
opposition.  All  this  he  considered  so  obvious  as  not 
to  require  proof;  but  at  the  same  time  he  very  judi- 
ciously added,  that  the  mind,  though  an  active  princi. 
pie,  has  likewise  a  disposition  to  indolence;  and 
though  it  loves  exercise,  loves  it  only  to  a  certain 
degree,  beyond  which  it  is  very  unwilling  to  be  led, 
or  driven.   From  this,  then,  he  inferred,  that  the  pur- 


2i0  MEMOIRS  OF 

suit  of  novelty  and  variety  may  be  carried  to  excess ; 
for  whenever  variety  entirely  destroys  the  pleasure 
arising  from  uniformity  and  repetition,  and  whenever 
novelty  counteracts  and  shuts  out  the  pleasure  arising 
from  old  habits  and  customs,  they  must  then  oppose, 
in  too  great  a  degree,  the  indolence  of  our  disposition, 
so  that  the  mind  can  only  bear  with  pleasure,  a  small 
portion  of  novelty  at  a  time. 

This  position  he  exemplified  further,  by  observing, 
that  when  the  objects  are  scattered  and  divided  into 
many  equal  parts  in  any  composition,  the  eye  is  there- 
by perplexed  and  fatigued,  from  not  knowing  where 
to  rest,  where  to  find  the  principal  action,  or  where  is 
the  principal  figure ;  for  when  all  are  making  equal 
pretensions  to  notice,  all  are  in  equal  danger  of  ne- 
glect. "  The  expression  which  is  used  very  often  on 
these  occasions  is,  the  piece  wants  repose  ,*  a  word 
which  perfectly  expresses  a  relief  of  the  mind  from 
that  state  of  hurry  and  anxiety  which  it  suffers,  when 
looking  at  a  work  of  this  character." 

Sir  Joshua  then  proceeded  to  exemplify  his  subject 
by  a  critical  review  of  both  painters  and  poets,  and 
took  occasion  to  introduce  tliat  excellent  note  ou 
Macbeth,  already  noticed. 

In  the  year  1779  Sir  Joshua  devoted  his  abilities  to 
partly  ornamenting  of  the  new  apartments  in  Somer- 
set-house, by  executing  a  picture  for  the  handsome 
ceiling  of  the  library.  In  the  centre  is  Theory  sitting 
on  a  cloud.  In  her  hand  she  holds  a  scroll  with  an 
inscription,  ^'  Theory  is  the  knowledge  of  what  is 
truly  nature,"  a  definition  quite  in  unison  with  the 
general  principle  so  ably  maintained  by  the  painter 
tliroughout  his  various  discourses. 

It  is  an  obvious  remark,  that  the  point  of  view  in 
which  paintings  on  ceilings  can  be  seen,  is  by  no 
means  favourable  to  their  general  effect;  this  difficulty 
has,  however,  been  surmounted,  in  some  degree,  by 
the  discriminating  skill  of  Sir  Joshua,  and  his  judi- 
cious choice  of  his  subject,  to  which  he  has  imparted 
(he  most  graceful  lightness,  representing  her  rather  asi 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  2ii 

hovering  over  the  head  of  the  spectator,  than  as  fixed 
on  any  permanent  seat. 

In  addition  to  this  elegant  specimen  of  his  art,  are 
the  two  Royal  portraits,  in  the  council  room,  of  their 
present  Majesties;  the  King  being  represented  on  his 
coronation  chair,  as  at  the  performance  of  tliat  cere- 
mony, and  his  consort  also,  adorned  with  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  regal  costume  and  state. 

This  year  terminated  the  mortal  career  of  Garrick, 
whose  fame  will,  however,  last  long.  He  had  con- 
tinued to  act  on  the  stage  until  a  late  period  of  his  life ; 
and  it  being  remarked  to  Sir  Joshua  as  rather  extra- 
ordinary, that  this  Roscius  of  the  British  drama 
should  still  undergo  so  much  fatigue  after  his  fortune 
was  made,  and  his  fame  established,  he  observed, 
with  great  knowledge  of  human  nature,  "  That  it  was 
necessary  for  Garrick  to  do  so,  in  order  to  preserve 
his  popularity,  and  to  keep  up  his  importance  with 
the  great,  who  soon  neglect  and  forget  those  who 
cease  to  be  the  town  talk,  however  eminent  they  may 
have  been,"  so  much  does  fashion  govern  the  world. 

On  Mr.  Garrick's  demise,  a  monody  was  written  by 
Mr.  Sheridan  to  his  memory;  in  which  he  very  ele- 
gantly shews,  that  the  fame  of  the  orator  and  the  ac- 
tor must  be  nearly  as  evanescent  as  those  exertions  on 
which  it  was  founded,  if  not  aided  by  the  poet  or  the 
painter,  vyhose  works  also  have  a  better  chance  of  im- 
mortality. In  this  produotion  he  paid  Sir  Joshua  the 
compliment  of  placing  his  efforts  in  opposition  with 
those  of  Raffaelle  himself. 

"•  Whate'er  of  wonder  Reynolds  now  may  raise, 
Raffaelle  still  boasts  contemporary  praise  ; 
Each  dazzling  light,  and  gaudier  bloom  subdu'd, 
With  undiminished  awe  his  works  are  viewed: 
E'en  Beauty's  portrait  wears  a  softer  prime, 
Touch'd  by  the  tender  hand  of  mellowing  time." 

In  this  year  Sir  Joshua  raised  his  price  to  fifty 
guineas  for  a  head  size,  which  he  continued  during 

Ff 


aiS  MEMOIRS  OF 

the  remainder  of  his  life:  liis  rapitlly  accuraulating 
fortune  was  not.  liowevcr,  for  his  own  sole  enjoyment; 
he  still  felt  the  luxury  of  doing  good,  and  had  many 
objects  of  bounty  pointed  out  to  him  by  his  friend 
Johnson,  who,  in  one  of  his  letters  in  this  year  to  Mrs. 
Piozzi,  inquires,  "  AV^ill  master  give  me  any  thing  for 
my  poor  neiglibours?  1  have  had  from  Sir  Joshua  and 
Mr.  Strahan.'^ 

The  year  1780  is  particularly  noticeable,  as  that 
in  which  the  Academy  first  began  to  exhibit  at 
Somerset-house  ;  their  apartments  in  that  building 
liaving  recently  been  (inished  for  their  reception. 

On  this  occasion  the  critics  of  the  day  seemed  to 
consider  themselves  as  arrived  at  a  new  era  in  the 
arts,  or,  at  least,  in  the  annals  of  the  Academy  itself, 
thus  by  tlie  Sovereign's  munificence  established  in  a 
superb  edifice,  supposed  to  be  well  calculated  for  all 
tlie  purposes  of  the  Society:  and  I  find  the  two  fol- 
lowing criticisms  which  were  written  upon  that  oc- 
casion. 

One  of  them  is  in  an  address  to  his  Majesty,  pre- 
fixed to  a  "  Candid  Review  of  tlie  Exhibition,''  where 
it  is  said,  that  *'  The  excellence  to  which  the  arts 
have  arisen  calls  particularly  on  the  attention  of  the 
"world.  The  progress  of  the  Academy  has  been  so 
rapid,  that,  though  this  is  only  the  12th  year  of  its 
existence,  it  has  already  made  Britain  the  seat  of 
Arts,  and  in  painting,  sculpture,  and  engraving,  it 
rivals,  if  it  does  not  excel,  all  the  other  schools  in 
Europe.  In  all  ages  the  progress  of  the  arts  to  ex- 
cellence has  been  slow  and  gradual;  but  it  is  the  sin- 
gular merit  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Britain,  that  it 
has  broke  through  the  fetters  with  which  similar  in- 
stitutions have  heretofore  been  confined,  and  by  one 
rapid  stride  has  attained  the  pre-eminence  of  all  com 
petitors." 

In  opposition  to  this,  a  writer  in  the  London 
Courant  observes,  that  "  an  establishment  bearing  the 
sanction  of  royal  patronage,  and  committed  to  the 
direction  of  a  genius  like  that  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 


■  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  2i?. 

whose  works,  the  acknowledged  patterns  of  grace 
and  expression,  conduce  not  more  to  excite  emulation, 
than  his  lectures  serve  to  instruct  the  students  in  the 
solid  principles  of  design  and  composition,  might  have 
been  presumed  to  have  exerted  such  effects  of  British 
genius'  in  the  subliraer  branches  of  the  arts,  as  miglu 
almost  have  rivalled  the  exquisite  sculpture  of  An- 
cient Greece  and  Kome,  or  the  finished  paintings  of 
the  Roman,  Florentine,  and  Flemish  scliools;  but  in 
Sculpture,  as  well  as  in  History,  Painting,  and  Land- 
scape, we  cannot  but  perceive  a  mortifying  disparity 
in  the  best  of  these  pieces,  in  the  late  exliibition,  when 
placed  in  competition  with  the  works  before  mention- 
ed." 

This  wise  critic,  it  seems,  expected  that  '^painters 
would  start  up  as  mushrooms  do,  and  thrive  under  as 
small  a  portion  of  attention,  but  he  ought  to  have 
known  that  Art  is  not  to  be  raised  by  the  numbers, 
however  great,  who  only  gaze  on  its  productions,  and 
do  no  more. 

Sir  Joshua's  offerings  to  the  Exhibition  tliis  year 
consisted  of  his  historical  portrait  of  Miss  Beauclerc  in 
the  character  of  Spencer's  Una,  and  of  his  emblemati 
cal  figure  of  Justice,  then  drawn  as  a  model  for  the 
window  which  Mr.  Jervis  was  painting  at  Oxford ;  to 
these  were  subjoined  his  portraits  of  the  Historical 
Gibbon,  of  Lady  Beaumont,  of  Lord  Cholmondeley, 
and  of  the  present  Duke  of  Gloucester.  The  receipts 
of  this  year's  exhibition  exceeded  the  sum  of  3000/. 

Sir  Joshua  in  addition  to  these  pictures  thus  ex- 
hibited, also  painted  for  the  Royal  Academy  that 
portrait  of  Sir  William  Chambers  which  they  novf 
possess. 

In  this  year,  too,  he  delivered  two  discourses,  the 
first  of  which  took  place  on  the  l6th  of  October,  on 
the  opening  of  the  Academy  at  their  present  apart- 
ments. 

In  this  his  object  was  a  general  one,  to  impress 
upon  the  minds  of  his  audience,  a  full  conviclion  of 
the  advantages  resulting  to  society  from  the  cultiva- 


214  MEMOIRS  OF 

tion  of  intellectual  pleasures ;  and  here  he  most  forci- 
bly inculcated  that  "  the  estimation  in  which  we  stand 
with  respect  to  our  neighbours,  will  be  in  proportion 
to  the  degree  in  which  we  excel  or  are  inferior  to  thera 
in  the  acquisition  of  intellectual  excellence,  of  which 
trade,  and  its  consequential  riches,  must  be  ac- 
knowledged to  give  the  means ;  but  a  people  whose 
whole  attention  is  absorbed  in  those  pursuits,  and  who 
forget  the  end,  can  aspire  but  little  above  the  rank  of 
a  barbarous  nation.  Every  establishment  that  tends  to 
the  cultivation  of  the  pleasures  of  the  mind,  as  distinct 
from  tho<«e  of  sense,  may  be  considered  as  an  inferior 
school  of  morality,  where  the  mind  is  polished  and 
prepared  for  higher  attainments,"  He  concluded  with 
an  elegant  eulogium  on  liejlnement  of  Taste,  most 
truly  saying,  that  if  it  does  not  lead  directly  to  purity 
of  manners,  it  obviates  at  least  their  greatest  deprava- 
tion, by  disentangling  the  mind  from  appetite,  *'  and 
conducting  the  thoughts  through  successive  stages  of 
excellence,  till  that  contemplation  of  universal  recti- 
tude and  harmony  w  hich  began  by  Taste,  may,  as  it 
is  exalted  and  retined,  conclude  in  virtue  !" 

Though  the  hospitable  urbanity  of  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds was  always  directed  to  the  promotion  of  social 
and  friendly  intercourse  among  his  intimates,  yet  it 
sometimes  happened,  as  in  all  mixed  societies,  that 
jars  would  arise.  One  incident  which  took  place  at 
his  house  in  this  year,  deserves  notice,  as  it  also  re- 
lates to  two  men  of  great  importance  in  the  literary 
world. 

All  the  friends  both  of  Johnson  and  Warton  la- 
mented the  unhappy  disagreement  betv.een  them, 
which  almost  at  once  put  a  period  to  a  warm  and 
long  continued  frioudship  of  many  years.  The  whole 
particulars  were  only  known  to  the  parties  themselves  ; 
but  one  of  the  company  who  over  heard  part  of  the 
wordy  conflict,  begins  his  account  by  stating  Johnson 
as  saying,  "  Sir,  1  am  not  used  to  be  contradicted  ;" 
to  which  Dr.  Warton  replied,  "  Sir,  if  you  were,  our 
admiration   could   not   be   increased,   but   our  love 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ^15 

might."  Oil  the  interference  of  the  gentleman  who 
overheard  this,  the  dispute  ceased,  but  a  coolness  al- 
ways existed  afterwards,  which,  I  find  it  stated,  was 
increased  by  many  trifling  circumstances  that,  without 
the  intervention  of  this  contest,  might  have  passed  un- 
noticed by  either  party. 

The  very  various  classes  of  diflFerent  companies  that 
were  to  be  met  with  at  Sir  Joshua's  table  calls  to  my 
remembrance  the  saying  of  one  illustrious  person  upon 
that  subject. 

A  large  company  being  invited  to  dine  at  Sir 
Joshua's,  Mr.  Dunning,  afterwards  Lord  Ashburton, 
was  one,  and  chanced  to  be  the  first  person  of  the  com- 
pany who  came.  On  entering  the  room,  he  said, "  Well, 
Sir  Joshua,  and  who  have  you  got  to  dine  with  you  to- 
day? for  the  last  time  I  dined  with  you  in  your  house, 
tiie  assembly  was  of  such  a  sort,  that  by  G I  be- 
lieve all  the  rest  of  the  world  were  at  peace,  for  that 
afternoon  at  least."' 

This  observation  was  by  no  means  ill  applied ;  for 
as  Sir  Joshua's  companions  were  chiefly  composed  of 
men  of  genius,  tiiey  were  often  disputatious,  and  apt  to 
be  vehement  in  argument. 

In  this  year,  and  for  several  successive  ones.  Sir 
Joshua  was  busily  employed  on  his  designs  for  the 
celebrated  painted  widow,  in  New  College  Chapel, 
at  Oxford,  consisting  of  seven  compartments  in  the 
lower  range,  each  twelve  feet  high,  and  three  wide,  and 
containing  the  allegorical  figures  of  the  four  cardinal, 
and  three  christian,  virtues  j  viz.  Temperance,  Forti- 
tude, Justice,  Prudence,  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity. 
In  all  of  these,  the  figures  are  accompanied  by  their 
several  attributes ;  and  they  are  all  single,  except  the 
centre  one,  where  Charity  is  represented  by  a  groupe, 
which,  as  described  by  a  local  critic,  deserves  es- 
4)ecial  notice,  for  the  expression  of  the  various  persons 
introduced,  whilst  the  "^  fondling  of  the  infant,  the 
importunity  of  the  boy,  and  the  placid  allectiou  of  the 
girl,  together  with  the  divided  attention  of  the  mother, 
are  all  distinguishably  and  judiciously  marked  with 


2iG  MEMOIRS  OF 

a  knowledge  of  character  for  which  the  great  arti&t 
who  gave  tliis  design  is  so  justly  celebrated/*' 

AI)ovc  tins,  on  a  grand  scale  of  ten  feet  by  eighteen, 
is  the  JWitivity,  a  composition  including  thirteen 
figures,  and  in  this,  it  has  been  well  observed,  that 
Sir  Joshua  had  great  advantages  over  Corregio,  who, 
in  his  famous  JSTotte,  introduces  no  light  in  the  paint- 
ing but  that  which  proceeds  from  the  infant  Saviour. 
The  idea  is  not  the  invention  even  of  Corregio,  but 
certainly  grand,  and  has  been  most  judiciously  adopt- 
ed, for  a  transparency,  by  Sir  Joshua,  who  cannot  be 
said  to  \m\e  coyied  it,  as  his  execution,  both  in  man- 
tier  and  circumstance,  gives  it  the  eflfect  of  novelty; 
for  from  the  transparent  medium  on  which  it  is  paint- 
ed, it  is  light  that  actually  does  proceed  through  that 
part  from  whence  the  fancy  of  the  painter  supposes  it 
to  emanate. 

This  latter  design  was  sold  to  the  late  Duke  of 
Rutland  for  1200  guineas,  those  of  the  Cardinal 
Virtues  are  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Marchioness 
of  Thoraond. 

The  final  execution  was  entrusted  to  Mr.  Jervis, 
whose  portrait,  as  well  as  that  of  Sir  Joshua  himself, 
is  introduced  in  the  larger  compartment;  they  are  rep- 
resented as  shepherds. 

Mr.  Jervis  originally  practised  in  Dublin,  as  a 
painter  on  glass ;  but  his  friencls  pointing  out  to  him 
the  superior  advantages  which  might  arise  from  a 
residence  in  London,  he  proceeded  to  that  capital,  and 
was  employed  both  by  Sir  Joshua  and  Mr.  West  in 
the  transmission  of  their  works  from  canvas  to  be  pre- 
served on  glass,  at  Oxford,  Windsor,  and  Greenwich. 

With  respect  to  the  great  work,  which  is  noticed 
with  great  and  due  praise  both  by  Dr.  Warton,  and 
by  Mr.  Thomas  Warton,  I  may  also  be  permitted 
to  add  some  of  Sir  Joshua's  own  observations,  as 
contained  in  a  letter  preserved  by  Mr.  JVlalone  in  his 
work. 

It  seems  that  it  had  been  at  first  intended  to  dis- 
tribute the  various  figures  in  different  parts  of  the 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ^17 

chapel;  but  this  Sir  Joshua  very  jiuliciously  opposed, 
and  prevailed  on  the  parties  concerned  to  have  the 
west  window  prepared  for  the  reception  of  the  whole 
by  an  alteration  of  the  stone  work.  In  a  letter,  written 
about  two  years  previous  to  this,  he  had  observed, 
"  Supposing  this  scheme  to  take  place,  my  idea  is  to 
paint,  in  the  great  space  in  the  centre,  Christ  in  the 
Manger,  on  the  principle  that  Corregio  has  done  it, 
in  the  famous  picture  called  the  *N*otte;  making  all 
the  light  proceed  from  Christ.  These  tricks  of  the 
art,  as  they  may  be  called,  seem  to  be  more  properly 
adapted  to  glass  painting,  than  any  other  kind.  Tiiis 
middle  space  will  be  filled  with  the  Virgin,  Christ, 
Joseph,  and  angels;  the  two  smaller  spaces  on  each 
side  1  shall  fill  with  the  shepherds  coming  to  worship ; 
and  the  seven  divisions  below  with  the  figures  of 
Faith,  Hope,  Charity,  and  the  Four  Cardinal  Vir- 
tues; which  will  make  a  proper  rustic  base,  ov  foun- 
dation for  the  support  of  the  Christian  Religion. 
Upon  the  whole,  it  appears  to  me,  that  chance  has 
presented  to  us  materials  so  well  adapted  to  our  pur- 
pose, that  if  we  had  the  whole  window  of  our  own  in- 
vention and  contrivance,  we  should  not  probably  have 
succeeded  better." 

The  execution  of  this  window  soon  after  drew  fortli 
the  following  address,  which  is  too  poetic  to  be  passed 
over : 

"  Ah!  stay  thy  treach'roushand,  forbear  to  trace 
Those  faultless  forms  of  elegance  and  grace! 
Ah !  cease  to  spread  thy  bright  transparent  mass 
With  Titian's  pencil,  o'er  the  speaking  glass ! 
Nor  steal,  by  strokes  of  art,  with  truth  combin'd, 
The  fond  illusions  of  my  wayward  mind! 
For  long  enamour'd  of  a  barb'rous  age, 
A  faithless  truant  to  the  classic  page, 
Long  have  I  lov'd  to  catch  the  simple  chime 
Of  minstrel  harps,  and  spell  the  fabling  rhyme; 
To  view  the  festive  rites,  the  knightly  play, 
That  deck'd  heroic  Albion's  elder  day ; 
To  mark  the  mould'ring  halls  of  barons  bold, 
And  the  rough  castle?  cast  in  giant  mould : 


218  MEMOIRS  OF 

With  Gothic  manners,  Gothic  arts  explorCj 
And  muse  on  the  magnificence  of  yore. 

"  But  chief,  enraptur'd,have  I  lov'd  to  roam, 
A  ling'ring  votary,  the  vaulted  dome, 
Where  the  tall  shafts,  that  mount  in  massy  pride, 
Their  mingling  branches  shoot  from  side  to  side; 
Where  elfin  sculptors,  with  fantastic  clew. 
O'er  the  long  roof  their  wild  embroid'ry  drew; 
Where  Superstition,  with  capricious  hand, 
In  many  a  maze  the  wretched  window  plann'd, 
With  hues  romantic  ting'd  the  gorgeous  pane, 
To  fill  with  holy  light  the  wondrous  fane; 
To  aid  the  builder's  model,  richly  rude, 
By  no  Vitruvian  symmetry  subdued ; 
To  suit  the  genius  of  the  mystic  pile; 
Whilst  as  around  the  far  retiring  aisle, 
And  fretted  shrines  with  hoary  trophies  hung, 
Her  dark  illumination  wide  she  flung, 
W^ith  new  solemnity,  the  nooks  profound. 
The  caves  of  death,  and  the  dim  arches  frown'd; 
From  bliss  long  felt  unwillingly  we  part; 
Ah !  spare  the  weakness  of  a  lover's  heart! 
Chance  not  the  phantoms  of  my  fairy  dream, 
Phantoms  that  shrink  at  Reason's  painful  gleam  I 
That  softer  touch,  insidious  artist  stay. 
Nor  to  new  joys  my  struggling  breast  betray ! 

«'  Such  w-as  a  pensive  bard's  mistaken  strain. — 
But  oh!  of  ravish'd  pleasures  why  complain? 
No  more  the  matchless  skill  I  call  unkind 
That  strives  to  disenchant  my  cheated  mind. 
For  when  again  I  view  thy  chaste  design. 
The  just  proportion,  and  the  genuine  line; 
Those  native  portaitures  of  Attic  art. 
That  from  the  lucid  surface  seem  to  start; 
Those  tints  that  steal  no  glories  from  the  day. 
Nor  ask  the  sun  to  lend  his  streaniing  ray; 
The  doubtful  radiance  of  contending  dyes, 
That  faintly  mingle  yet  distinctly  rise; 
'Tvvixt  light  and  shade  the  transitory  strife; 
The  feature  blooming  with  immortal  life  : 
The  stole  in  casual  foldings  taught  to  flow, 
Not  with  ambitious  ornaments  to  glow; 
The  tread  majestic,  and  the  beaming  eye 
That  lifted  speaks  its  commerce  with  the  sky ; 
Sudden,  the  sombrous  imag'ry  is  fled, 
AVhich  late  my  visionary  rapture  fed ; 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  gl9 

Thy  powerful  hand  has  broke  the  Gothic  chain, 
And  brought  my  bosom  back,  to  truth  again : 
To  truth,  whose  bold  and  unresisted  aim 
Checks  frail  caprice,  and  fashion's  fickle  claim ; 
To  Truth,  whose  charms  deception's  magic  quell, 
And  bind  coy  Fancy  in  a  stronger  spell. 

"  Ye  brawny  prophets,  that  in  robes  so  rich, 
At  distance  due,  possess  the  crisped  niche  ; 
Ye  rows  of  patriarchs,  that  sublimely  rear'd, 
Diffuse  a  proud  primeval  length  of  beard; 
Ye  saints,  who  clad  in  crimson's  bright  array, 
More  pride  than  humble  poverty  display ; 
Ye  virgins  meek,  that  wear  the  palmy  crown 
Of  patient  faith,  and  yet  so  fiercely  frown : 
Ye  angels,  that  from  golden  clouds  recline, 
But  boast  no  semblance  to  a  race  divine; 
Ye  tragic  tales  of  legendary  lore. 
That  draw  devotion's  ready  tear  no  more; 
Ye  martyrdoms  of  unenlightened  days, 
Ye  miracles,  that  now  no  wonder  raise; 
Shapes  that  with  one  broad  glare  the  gazer  strike! 
Kings,  bishops,  nuns,  apostles,  all  alike! 
Ye  colours,  that  th'  unwary  sight  amaze, 
And  only  dazzle  in  the  noontide  blaze! 
No  more  the  sacred  window's  round  disgrace, 
But  yield  to  Grecian  groupes  the  shining  space, 
Lo !  from  the  canvas  Beauty  shifts  her  throne, 
Lol  Picture's  powers  a  new  formation  own! 
Behold,  she  prints  upon  the  chrystal  plain, 
"With  her  own  energy,  th'  expressive  stain ! 
The  mighty  master  spreads  his  mimic  toil 
More  wide,  nor  only  blends  the  breathing  oil ; 
But  calls  the  lineaments  of  life  complete 
From  genial  alchemy's  creative  heat; 
Obedient  forms  to  tiie  bright  fusion  gives, 
While  in  the  warm  enamel  nature  lives. 
Artist,  'tis  thine,  from  the  broad  window's  height, 
To  add  new  lustre  to  religious  light: 
Not  of  its  pomp  to  strip  this  ancient  shrine. 
But  bid  that  pomp  with  purer  radiance  shine  : 
With  arts  unknown  before,  to  reconcile 
The  willing  Graces  to  the  Gothic  pile." 

In  this,  the  concluding  passage  is  justly  applicable 
to  Mr.  Jervis,  who  so  dexterously  executed  the 
mechanical  part  of  Sir  Joshua's  excpiisite  designs; 


2^0  xMEMOlRS  OF 

and  tliiis  gave  to  the  great  master's  ■work  a  degree  of 
immortality,  vvliich  may  j)erhai)s  outlive  the  canvas. 

The  second  discourse  delivered  this  year,  on  the 
Itth  of  Deceml)erj  was  the  tenth  in  succession;  and 
in  this  Sir  Joshua,  stepping  out  of  what  may  strictly 
be  termed  his  own  line  of  art,  investigated  the  ob- 
jects, form,  and  character  of  Sculpture,  which  he  con- 
sidcrcd  as  possessing  but  one  style ;  he  also  noticed 
t!ie  inelFectual  attempts  of  sculptors,  of  the  present 
day,  to  improve  the  art,  arising  partly  from  the 
costume  of  modern  times  not  being  so  Avell  suited  to 
execution  as  that  of  the  classic  ages. 

He  commenced  by  explaining  his  reasons  for  not 
liaving  sooner  noticed  this  particular  branch  of  art,  on 
the  principle  that  Painting  is  mucli  more  extensive 
and  complicated  than  Sculpture,  and  afibrds,  there- 
fore, a  more  ample  field  for  criticism;  and  consequent- 
ly as  the  greater  includes  the  less,  the  leading  prin- 
ciples of  sculpture  are  comprized  in  those  of  painting. 
The  former  he  considered  as  an  art  of  much  more 
simplicity  and  uniformity  than  the  latter,  as  it  cannot 
with  propriety,  or  the  best  effect,  be  applied  to  many 
subjects ;  the  objects  of  its  pursuit  being  comprized  in 
two  words.  Form  and  Character,  which  qualities  can 
be  presented  in  one  manner,  or  in  one  style,  only. 

He  then  noticed  that  the  sculptors  of  the  last  age, 
not  having  attended  sufficiently  to  the  discrimination 
of  the  several  styles  of  painting,  have  been  led  into 
many  errors;  so  that  when  they  endeavoured  to  copy 
the  picturesque  effects,  contrasts  or  petty  excellencies 
of  whatever  kind,  which  not  improperly  find  a  place 
in  the  inferior  branches  of  painting,  they  doubtless 
imagined  themselves  improving  and  extending  the 
boundaries  of  their  art  by  this  imitation ;  but,  on  the 
contrary.  Sir  Joshua  was  of  opinion,  that  they  were 
in  reality  violating  its  essential  character,  by  giving  a 
difilerent  direction  to  its  operations,  and  proposing  to 
themselves  either  w  hat  is  unattainable,  or  at  best  a 
meaner  object  of  pursuit.  "  The  grave  and  austere 
character  of  Sculpture,"  says  he,  ^^  requires  the  ut- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  22i 

most  degree  of  formality  in  composition;  picturesque 
contrasts  iiave  here  no  place;  every  thing  is  carefully 
weighed  and  measured,  one  side  making  almost  an 
exact  equipoise  to  the  other:  a  child  is  not  a  proper 
balance  to  a  full  grown  figure,  nor  is  a  figure  sitting 
or  stooping  a  companion  to  an  upright  figure." 

He  further  laid  it  down  as  a  principle,  that  the  ex- 
cellence of  every  art  must  consist  in  the  complete  ac- 
complishment of  its  purpose,  but  that  all  false  imita- 
tions of  nature,  arising  from  a  mean  ambition  of  pro- 
ducing a  picturesque  effect  or  illusion  of  any  kind, 
thereby  degrading  that  grandeur  of  ideas  which  the 
art  ougiit  to  excite,  must  be  strictly  guarded  against. 
This  he  exemplified  in  a  familiar  manner,  by  ob- 
serving, that  if  the  business  of  Sculpture  were  only  to 
administer  pleasure  to  ignorance,  or  a  mere  enter- 
tainment to  the  senses,  then  the  Venus  de  Medicis 
might  certainly  receive  much  improvement  by  colour; 
'"'  but  the  character  of  sculpture  makes  it  her  duty  to 
afford  delight  of  a  different,  and,  perhaps,  of  a  higlier 
kind — the  delight  resulting  from  the  contemplation  of 
perfect  beauty ;  and  this,  which  is  in  truth  an  intel- 
lectual pleasure,  is  in  many  respects  incompatible 
with  what  is  merely  addressed  to  the  senses,  such  as 
that  with  which  ignorance  and  levity  contemplate  ele- 
gance of  form.'' 

In  the  progress  of  this  discourse.  Sir  Joshua  stated 
some  other  truths  which  are  of  that  general  tenor  and 
import  to  deserve  a  place  here.  "  What  Grace  is,*' 
said  he,  ^^  how  it  is  to  be  acquired  or  conceived,  are 
in  speculation  difficult  questions;  but  causa  latet,  res 
est  notissima:  without  any  perplexing  inquiry,  the 
effect  is  hourly  perceived.  I  shall  only  observe,  that 
its  natural  foundation  is  correctness  of  design ;  and 
though  grace  may  be  sometimes  united  with  incor 
rectness,  it  cannot  proceed  from  it,'' 

Another  observation  may  be  no  less  interesting  and 
important  to  the  general  reader.  *•  It  may  be  remark- 
ed that  Grace,  Character,  and  Expression,  though 
words  of  different  sense  and  meaning,  and  so  under"- 


S33  MEMOIRS  OF 

stood  when  applied  to  the  works  of  painters,  are  in- 
discriminately used  when  we  speak  of  Sculpture. 
This  indecision  we  may  expect  to  proceed  from  the 
undetermined  eii'ects  of  the  art  itself;  those  qualities 
are  exhibited  in  Sculpture,  rather  by  form  and  atti- 
tude, than  by  the  features,  and  can  therefore  be  ex- 
pressed but  in  a  very  general  manner.'' 

The  happy  manner  which  Sir  Josiiua  possessed  of 
drawing  moral  reflections  from  the  excellencies  of  art, 
and  of  thereby  extending  the  usefulness  of  his  instruc- 
tion, was  exemplitied  in  his  conclusion,  when  lie  ob- 
served, that  there  is  no  circumstance  which  more  dis- 
tinguishes a  well  regulated  and  sound  taste,  than  a 
settled  uniformity  of  design,  where  all  the  parts  are 
compact,  and  fitted  to  each  other,  every  thing  being  of 
a  piece.  "  This  principle  extends  itself  to  all  habits 
of  life,  as  well  as  to  all  works  of  art."  Upon  these 
general  grounds,  then,  he  drew  his  inference,  that  the 
uniformity  and  simplicity  of  the  materials  on  which 
the  sculptor  labours,  prescribe  bounds  to  his  art,  and 
teach  him  to  confine  himself  to  a  proportionate  simpli- 
city of  design. 

Sir  Joshua's  exertions  for  the  Exhibition  in  1781, 
were  principally  confined  to  three  paintings,  of  \vhich 
Dr.  Beattie  thus  observes  in  a  letter  written  from 
London  in  the  JVIay  of  that  year,  "  The  exhibition  of 
pictures  at  the  Royal  Academy  is  the  best  of  the  kind 
I  have  seen.  The  best  pieces,  in  my  opinion,  are 
Thais  (with  a  torch  in  her  hand ;)  the  Death  of  Dido ; 
and  a  JFJoy  supposed  to  be  listening  to  a  wonderful 
story;  these  are  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds."  I  do 
not,  indeed,  insert  this  criticism  as  a  support  to  Sir 
Joshua's  fame,  but  rather  for  the  purpose  of  noticing 
a  fact,  not  generally  known,  that  Sir  Joshua's  literary 
aid  was  not  neglected  by  his  literary  friends ;  a  fact 
completely  at  variance  with  those  critics  who  have 
tliought  proper  to  deny  him  the  merit  of  writing  his 
own  discourses. 

Beattie  was  at  this  very  period  preparing  his  "  Es- 
say on  Beauty"  for  the  press,  and  in  this  he  seems 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  g23 

evidently  to  have  consulted  Sir  Joshua;  for  in  a  letter 
to  the  Dutchess  of  Gordon  he  says,  "  However  one 
must  keep  one's  word;  and  as  your  Grace  desired  to 
see  this  Essay,  and  I  promised  to  send  it  (as  soon  as 
I  could  get  it  transcribed,)  I  send  it  accordingly.  I 
should  not  give  you  the  trouble  to  return  it,  if  I  had 
not  promised  a  reading  of  it  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds." 

Sir  Joshua,  indeed,  seems  to  have  been  applied  to 
by  his  friends  on  all  occasions;  and  by  none  ofteuer 
than  by  Dr.  Johnson,  particularly  for  charitable  pur- 
poses. 

Of  this  there  is  an  instance,  in  a  note  of  Johnson's 
preserved  in  his  life,  too  honourable  to  him  to  be  here 
omitted. 

"  TO  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


^*  Dear  Sir, 

"  It  was  not  before  yesterday  that  I  received 
your  splendid  benefaction.  To  a  hand  so  liberal  in 
distributing,  I  hope  nobody  will  envy  the  power  of 
acquiring. 

"  I  am,  Dear  Sir, 

*^  Your  obliged  and  most  humble  servant, 

"  Sam.  Johnson."' 
Jane  g3, 1781. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  Johnson  received  from 
Miss  Frances  Reynolds  (a  lady  to  whom  he  was  al- 
ways known  to  have  had  a  very  high  regard,  and  who 
died  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty,  on  the  1st  of  No- 
vember, 1807?)  a  copy  of  a  work  written  by  her, 
privately  printed,  but  never  published,  called  an 
"  Essay  on  Taste."  In  return  for  this  he  sejiit  her  the 
following  letter. 


224  iMExMOlRS  OF 

'^  to  mrs.  fuances  reynolds. 

*•'  Dearest  Madam, 

"  There  is  in  tliese  few  pages,  or  remarks,  such 
depth  of  penetration,  such  nicety  of  observation,  as 
Loclie  or  Pascal  might  be  proud  of.  This  I  desire 
you  to  believe  is  my  real  opinion. 

"  However,  it  cannot  be  published  in  its  present 
state.  Many  of  your  notions  seem  not  to  be  very  clear 
in  your  own  mind  :  many  arc  not  sufficiently  develop- 
ed and  expanded  for  the  common  reader :  it  wants 
every  where  to  be  made  smoother  and  plainer. 

"  You  may,  by  revisal  and  correction,  make  it  at 
very  elegant  and  a  very  curious  work. 

"  I  am,  my  dearest  dear, 

**  Your  affectionate  and  obedient  servant, 

"'•^  Samuel  Johnson.*' 

Bolt  Court,  June  28,  I78I. 

To  return  to  the  subject  of  the  Exhibition  of  this 
year,  I  may  remark,  that  this  picture  of  Thais  gave 
rise,  but  very  unjustly,  to  some  attempts  at  scanda- 
lous anecdote.  In  a  periodical  work  of  the  time,  it 
was  noticed  tliat  this  picture  was  highly  admired ; 
that  tlie  painter  had  caught  the  very  spirit  of  the 
heroine,  and  that  she  seemed  rushing  from  the  canvas 
to  destroy  Persepolis. 

The  Critic  then  observed,  that  there  was  an  anec- 
dote hanging  on  this  picture,  which  was  circulated  by 
the  enemies  of  Sir  Joshua  when  he  exhibited  it;  but 
this  the  writer  very  properly  refused  to  give  credit  to, 
as  a  thing  derogatory  to  Sir  Joshua's  general  conduct 
and  feelings.  ^'  The  whisper  insisted  that  the  face  of 
this  picture  was  painted  for  the  famous  Emily  Bertie, 
that  she  paid  him  seventy-five  guineas  down,  and 
was  to  pay  him  the  like  sum  when  the  picture  was 
finished,  which  she  was  unable  to  do;  the  picture  re- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  225 

inaiiied  with  Sir  Joshua  some  time,  m  hen  he,  iinillug 
it  not  called  for,  took  it  into  his  head  to  metamorphose 
Emily  Bertie  into  Thais,  and  exhibit  her  to  the  world 
in  her  proper  character,  rushing  with  a  torch  to  set 
the  Temple  of  Chastity  on  fire."  He  then  adds,  that 
^^  the  truth  of  the  matter  is,  Sir  Joshua  has  now  got 
the  picture  of  the  lovely  Emily  in  his  collection,  and 
Thais  has  no  kind  of  connexion  with  it,  except  that  of 
two  faces  in  a  small  degree  resembling  each  other.*' 
To  which  I  can  add,  from  my  own  knowledge,  that 
the  whole  story  is  an  entire  fabrication  of  folly;  for 
Sir  Joshua  never  painted  any  person  of  the  name  of 
Emily  Bertie.  The  portrait  in  the  character  of  Thais 
was  painted  in  the  year  1776,  the  head  only,  on  a 
whole  length  canvas,  from  a  beautiful  young  girl  who 
was  known  by  the  name  of  Emily  Coventry;  she 
afterwards  accompanied  a  gentleman  to  the  East 
Indies,  and  there  died  young.  The  picture  was  not 
finished  till  the  year  1781?  and  then  sold  to  Mr. 

G for  one  hundred  guineas;  it  is  now  in  the 

possession  of  the  Earl  of  Dysart,  and  is  particularly 
excellent. 

The  other  picture  of  Dido  w^as  mucli  admired,  and 
drew  immense  crowds  to  the  Exhibition,  exciting  the 
applause  not  only  of  Englishmen,  but  of  the  most 
judicious  foreigners,  by  the  beauty  of  the  countenance 
and  the  extreme  richness  of  the  colouring. 

In  the  month  of  July,  1781,  Sir  Joshua  set  off,  in 
company  with  his  friend  Mr.  Metcalf,  for  the  Conti- 
nent, with  the  intention  of  examining  the  various 
celebrated  productions  of  the  Dutch  and  Flemish 
schools.  , 

The  two  friends  left  London  on  the  24th,  and  pro- 
ceeded in  a  post  chaise  for  Margate,  where  they  took 
shipping  for  Ostend,  and  from  the  latter  place  they  took 
the  route  of  Ghent,  Brussels,  and  thence  to  Mechlin, 
at  which  latter  place.  Sir  Joshua  paid  particular  atten- 
tion to  the  altar-piece  in  the  cathedral,  the  work  of 
Rubens,  and  of  which  he  related  an  anecdote  illustra,- 
tive  of  that  artist's  manner  of  proceeding  in  his  large 


226  MEMOIRS  OF 

works.  This  anecdote  lias  been  given  moi^e  at  length 
in  the  notes  written  by  himself  on  the  various  produc- 
tions of  the  pencil  seen  in  tiiis  tour,  published  in  his 
works,  and  which,  indeed,  were  taken  with  the  inten- 
tion of  drawing  up  a  sketch  of  the  tour  for  the  press, 
but  this  he  never  proceeded  further  in  than  the  writing 
a  few  introductory  paragraphs  addressed  to  his  com- 
panion to  whom  he  meant  to  dedicate  it. 

It  seems  that  a  citizen  of  Mechlin  having  bespoke 
this  picture  for  the  cathedral,  was  anxious  to  avoid  the 
danger  of  its  removal,  and  therefore  requested  Rubens 
to  paint  it  in  the  church,  to  w  hich  he  assented,  as  his 
own  country  seat  at  Stein  was  in  the  vicinity  of  that 
city.  He  therefore  completed  his  sketch  in  colours, 
and  intrusted  one  of  his  scholars,  of  the  name  of  Van 
Egmout,  with  the  task  of  dead  colouring  the  canvas  for 
the  great  picture  at  Mechlin,  from  this  sketch. 

The  person  who  bespoke  it,  on  receiving  notice  of 
this  circumstance,  immediately  stopped  Van  Egmont's 
labours,  exclaiming  that  he  had  engaged  for  a  picture 
from  the  hand  of  the  master  and  not  of  the  scholar. 
However,  as  Sir  Joshua  adds,  Rubens  satisfied  him 
that  this  was  always  his  method  of  proceeding;  and 
that  this  piece  would  be  as  completely  his  work  as  if 
he  had  done  the  whole  from  the  beginning.  "  The 
citizen  was  satisfied,  and  Rubens  proceeded  with  the 
picture,  which  appears  to  me  to  have  no  indications  of 
neglect  in  any  part ;  on  the  contrary,  I  think  it  has 
been  one  of  his  best  pictures,  though,  those  who  know 
this  circumstance  pretend  to  see  Van  Egmont's  in- 
ferior genius  transpire  through  Ruben's  touches." 

From  Mechlin,  the  travellers  proceeded  to  Ant- 
werp, and  having  seen  almost  every  thing  curious  in 
Flanders,  set  off  for  Holland,  where  they  visited 
Dort,  the  Hague,  thence  to  Leyden,  and  Amsterdam, 
from  whence  they  made  a  short  excursion  into  Ger- 
many, crossing  the  Rhine  near  Dusseldorf,  at  which 
latter  place  Sir  Joshua  records  a  curious  pictorial 
anecdote. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  g^ 

Being  much  pleased  with  the  easy  access  to  the 
famous  Dusseldorf  Gallery,  and  with  the  liberty  of 
staying  in  it  as  long  as  he  chose,  and  also  with  the 
extreme  facilities  aftbrded  to  students,  many  of  whom 
he  found  copying  in  the  gallery,  and  others  in  a  large 
room,  above  stairs,  expressly  allotted  for  that  pur- 
pose, Sir  Joshua  mentioned  his  great  satisfaction  at 
this  liberal  arrangement  to  the  keeper,  Mr.  Kraye ; 
but  this  gentleman  informed  him  that  although  it  was 
the  Electors  wish  to  afford  the  most  perfect  accommo- 
dation to  visitors,  yet  in  regard  to  the  students,  he 
took  some  credit  to  himself:  foD  when  he  first  asked 
the  Elector's  permission  for  their  copj'ing  the  pictures, 
that  prince  refused  the  boon,  asserting,  that  the  copies 
would  be  offered  for  sale  as  originals,  which  multi- 
plication would  deteriorate  the  value  of  his  collection. 
To  this  unfounded  objection,  Mr.  Kraye  answered, 
that  painters  capable  of  taking  such  copies  as  might 
pass  for  originals,  were  not  likely  to  do  so,  as  their 
time  was  fully  occupied  on  originals  of  their  own,  and 
that  the  copies  of  the  young  students  could  not  hurt  his 
originals  as  they  could  only  impose  upon  the  ignorant 
whose  opinions  were  below  his  Highness's  attention. 
To  this  he  added  the  very  forcible  argument,  that  if 
the  Elector  wished  to  produce  artists  in  his  own  coun- 
try, the  refusal  of  such  advantages  to  the  student  would 
be  most  unwise,  and  exactly  on  a  parity  with  a  person 
who  should  pretend  to  be  a  patron  of  literature,  and 
yet  in  his  attempts  to  produce  scholars  should  refuse 
them  the  use  of  a  library.  To  reasoning  so  plain  and 
simple,  the  Elector  must  have  been  stupid  indeed  if  he 
had  refused  assent,  and  Mr.  Kraye  h.ad  carte  blanche 
accorded  to  him  in  favour  of  the  youthful  pupils. 

From  Dusseldorf,  the  two  friends  proceeded  for 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  Liege:  thence  by  the  way  of 
Brussels  to  Ostend,  where  they  re-embarked,  and 
landing  at  Margate,  arrived,  on  Sunday  the  l6th  of 
September,  at  the  metropolis. 

Whilst  at  Antwerp,  Sir  Joshua  had  taken  particu- 
lar notice  of  a  young  man  of  the  name  of  De  Gree, 
iih 


g28  MEMOIRS  OF 

■\vl)o  liad  exliibiteil  some  considerable  talents  as  a 
painter.  His  father  was  a  taylor,  anil  he  himself  had 
heen  intended  for  some  clerical  oifice,  but  as  it  is  said 
by  a  late  writer,  having  formed  a  different  opinion  of 
liis  religion  than  was  intended,  from  the  books  put 
into  his  hand  l)y  an  Abbe  who  was  his  patron,  it  was 
discovered  that  he  would  not  do  for  a  priest,  and  the 
Abbe  therefore  articled  him  to  Gerrards  of  Antwerp. 
Sir  Joshua  received  him,  on  his  arrival  in  England, 
with  much  kindness,  and  even  recommended  to  him 
most  strongly  to  pursue  his  profession  in  the  metropo- 
lis ;  but  I)e  Grce  was  unwilling  to  consent  to  this,  as 
he  had  been  previously  engaged  by  Mr.  Latouche  to 
proceed  to  Ireland.  Even  here  Sir  Joshua's  friendly 
attentions  did  not  cease,  for  he  actually  made  the  poor 
artist  a  present  of  flfiy  guineas  to  fit  him  for  his  Hiber- 
nian excursion,  the  whole  of  which,  however,  the 
careful  son  sent  over  to  Antwerp  for  the  use  of  his 
aged  parents. 

About  this  tioie  Mr.  Opie  came  first  to  settle  in 
London,  accompanied  by  his  friend  Dr.  Wolcot,  when 
the  novelty  and  originality  of  his  manner  in  his 
pictures,  added  to  his  great  abilities,  drew  an  univer- 
sal attention  from  the  connoisseurs,  and  he  was  im- 
mediately surrounded  and  employed  by  all  the  princi- 
pal nobility  of  England.  1  remember  that  Sir  Joshua 
himself  compared  him  to  Carravagio. 

However,  it  is  curious  to  observe  the  changes  which 
frequently  happen  in  the  course  of  a  very  short 
period,  and  if  we  oftener  made  this  the  subject  of  our 
reflection,  it  would  have  a  great  tendency  to  check  our 
vanity  in  prosperity,  and  give  us  consolation  even  in 
situations  apparently  the  most  forlorn :  for  in  a  very 
little  space  of  time  that  capricious  public  who  had  so 
violently  admired  and  employed  Opie,  when  first  he 
appeared,  and  was  a  novelty  among  them,  and  was, 
in  reality  only  the  embryo  of  a  painter,  yet,  when  he 
had  proved  himself  to  be  a  real  artist,  they  left  him 
with  disgust  because  he  was  a  novelty  no  longer. 
They  now  looked  out  for  his  defects  alone,  and  he 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  229 

became  in  his  turn  totally  neglected  and  forgotten, 
and  instead  of  being  the  sole  object  of  public  attention, 
and  having  the  street,  where  he  lived,  so  crowded 
with  coaches  of  the  nobilitj  as  to  become  a  real 
nuisance  to  the  neighbourhood,  and  when,  as  he  jest- 
ingly observed  to  me,  that  he  thought  he  must  place 
cannon  at  his  door  to  keep  the  multitude  off  from  it,  he 
now  found  himself  as  entirely  deserted  as  if  his  house 
had  been  infected  with  the  plague. — Such  is  tlie 
world ! 

He  afterwards  by  painting  some  fine  historical 
pictures  for  tlie  Shakspeare  gallery,  &c.,  became 
again  the  object  of  moderate  attention  aud  employ- 
ment, gained  by  his  own  shew  of  merit;  but  not  like 
the  first  onset,  for  the  "world  are  never  infatuated  twice 
by  the  same  object. 

It  was  an  observation  made  to  me  by  old  Mr. 
Wilton,  the  statuary,  that  he  thought  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  was  the  only  eminent  painter  that  had  been 
able  to  call  back  the  public  to  himself  after  they  had 
grown  tired  of  him,  and  which  he  had  done  more  than 
once.  This  Vandyke  could  not  accomplish ;  but  when 
lie  was  deserted  in  England,  as  one  who  had  been  too 
long  the  object  of  attention,  went  over  to  Paris  in 
hope  to  gain  employment  there ;  but  even  there  he 
was  no  novelty :  and  it  not  answering  his  expecta- 
tions, he  returned  to  England,  where  he  soon  after 
died,  which  leaves  it  uncertain  what  would  have  been 
the  consequence  had  he  survived. 

Yet  certain  it  is,  that  Sir  Joshua  was  not  much 
employed  in  portraits  after  Romney  grew  into  fashion, 
although  the  difference  between  those  painters  was  so 
immense. 

We  have  to  regret  that  Mr.  Opie  died  at  an  early 
period  of  his  life,  and  before  he  had  time  fully  to  make 
the  trial  of  winning  a  second  time  the  capricious  world 
to  appreciate  justly  those  abilities  which  will  ever 
rank  him  among  the  first  of  English  painters. 

I  knew  him  very  well ;  and  I  shall  take  the  liberty 
to  insert  in  this  place  the  following  character,  which  I 


230  MEMOIRS  OF 

wrote  immediately  ou  bis  death,  and  whicli  is  my  true 
opinion  of  him. 

"JOHN  OPIE,  Esq.,  R.  A. 

*^  Professor  of  Painting  to  the  Royal  Academy. 

''  Died  April  9th,  I8O7. 

*^  A  man  whose  intellectual  powers,  and  indefatiga- 
ble industry  in  their  cultivation,  rendered  him  at 
once  an  honour  to  the  country  from  which  be  origi. 
nated,  and  an  example  of  imitation  to  mankind. 

"  Born  in  a  rank  of  life  in  which  the  road  to  emi- 
nence is  rendered  infiuitely  diflBcult,  unassisted  by 
partial  patronage,  scorning,  with  virtuous  pride,  all 
slavery  of  dependence,  he  trusted  alone  for  his  reward 
to  the  force  of  his  natural  powers,  and  to  well  directed 
and  unremitting  study ;  and  he  demonstrated,  by  his 
works,  how  highly  he  was  endowed  by  nature  with 
sti-ength  of  judgment  and  originality  of  conception. 
His  thoughts  were  always  new  and  striking,  as  they 
were  the  genuine  offspring  of  his  own  mind ;  and  it  is 
ditiicult  to  say  if  his  ccmversation  gave  more  amuse- 
ment or  instruction. 

'^  The  toil  or  difficulties  of  his  profession  were  by 
him  considered  as  matter  of  honourable  and  delightful 
contest;  and  it  might  be  said  of  him  that  he  did  not  so 
much  paint  to  live,  as  live  to  paint. 

'^  As  a  son  he  was  an  example  of  duty  to  an  aged 
parent.  He  was  studious  yet  not  severe;  he  was 
eminent  yet  not  vain :  his  disposition  so  tranquil  and 
forgiving,  that  it  was  the  reverse  of  every  tincture  of 
sour  or  vindictive;  and  what  to  some  might  have 
appeared  as  rougliness  of  manner,  was  only  the  effect 
of  an  honest  indignation  towards  that  which  he  con-  • 
ceived  to  be  error. 

"  How  greatly  have  we  cause  to  lament  that  so 
much  talent,  united  to  so  much  industry',  perseverance, 
and  knowledge,  should  have  been  prematurely  snatch 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  g31 

cd  from  the  world,  which  it  would  Iiave  delighted 
with  its  powers,  and  benefited  by  its  example  1" 

J.  N. 

Of  the  opinion  of  connoisseurs  concerning  Sir 
Joshua  we  may  form  some  idea  from  the  numerous 
compliments  which  were  paid  him  at  this  crisis. 

Mr.  Nichols  in  his  Life  of  Hogarth,  whilst  speak- 
ing of  that  artist's  attempt  to  paint  a  Sigismunda^ 
which  should  surpass  that  of  Corregio  now  at  tiie 
Duke  of  Newcastle's,  at  Clumber  Park,  says  that, 
"  to  express  a  sorrow  like  that  of  TaiicreiVs  (Sif- 
fredi's)  daughter,  few  modern  artists  are  fully  quali- 
fied, if  we  except  indeed  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  with 
whose  pencil  Beauty  in  all  her  forms,  and  the 
Passions  in  all  their  varieties,  are  equally  famil- 
iar." 

The  London  Courant  in  the  same  year  also  speaks 
ef  "  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  whose  works  the  ac- 
knowledged patterns  of  grace  and  expression,  con- 
duce not  more  to  excite  emulation,  than  his  lectures 
serve  to  instruct  the  students  in  the  solid  principles  of 
design  and  composition."  To  which  I  may  justly  add 
some  observations  from  a  Preface  to  Imitations  of 
Drawings,  by  Mr.  Rogers,  in  which  it  is  expressed 
'^  how  happy  it  is  for  the  Academy  to  have  for  its 
first  President  a  genius  who  feels,  and  is  sensible  of 
the  necessity  of  enlarging  the  ideas  of  youth,  by 
placing  before  them  the  works  of  the  great  masters; 
who  teaclies  them  to  disregard  the  tinsel  of  the  last 
age,  but  eagerly  to  search  after  the  rich  ore  of  that  of 
Leo  X.,  and  who  directs  them  in  the  proper  method 
of  bringing  the  golden  fleece  out  of  Italy  into  his 
Majesty's  dominions." 

With  such  a  fame,  particularly  among  the  eminent 
for  talents,  it  is  not  surprizing  that  all  his  friends 
were  much  alarmed  at  a  slight  paralytic  affection, 
which  after  an  almost  uninterrupted  course  of  good 
health  for  many  years,  attacked  him  at  this  period. 


23S  MEMOIRS  OF 

Tliis  was  but  slight,  however,  as  its  effects  were  com- 
pletely removed  in  the  space  of  a  few  weeks,  to  the 
great  happiness  of  all  who  knew  him,  but  perhaps  of 
none  more  than  Dr.  Johnson,  wiio  wrote  him  thfe  fol- 
lowing letter  ou  the  occasion. 

**'  Dear  Sir, 

"  I  heard  yesterday  of  your  late  disorder,  and 
should  think  ill  of  myself  if  I  had  heard  of  it  without 
alarm.  I  heard  likewise  of  your  recovery,  which  I 
sincerely  wish  to  be  complete  and  permanent.  Your 
country  has  been  in  danger  of  losing  one  of  its  brightest 
ornaments,  and  I  of  losing  one  of  my  oldest  and  kind- 
est friends  :  but  I  hope  you  will  still  live  long,  for  the 
honour  of  the  nation ;  and  that  more  enjoyment  of 
your  elegance,  your  intelligence,  and  your  benevo- 
lence, is  still  reserved  for, 

"  Dear  Sir, 

'*  Your  most  affectionate,  &c. 

"  Sam.  Johnson/' 

Briglithelmstone,  J\*ov.  i^th,  1783. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  his  partial  friends  alone 
that  Sir  Joshua  was  dear ;  for  in  this  very  year  we  find 
him  praised  by  an  universal  satirist;  one  who,  with 
original  humour,  had  magnified  the  most  unimportant 
actions  of  royalty  into  foibles,  and  foibles  into  follies ; 
it  is  unnecessary  to  add  the  name  of  Peter  Pindar, 
■who  was  indeed  an  excellent  critic  on  art,  and 
amused  himself  occasionally  in  landscape  painting, 
and  therefore  the  better  qualified  to  judge  of  the  ex- 
cellencies of  Sir  Joshua. 

In  his  Lyric  Odes  of  this  year,  he  has  several  al- 
lusions to  the  President  of  the  Academy. 

«  Close  by  them  hung  Sir  Joshua's  matchless  pieces- 
Works  !  that  a  Titian's  hand  could  form  alone — 
Works!  that  a  Rubens  had  been  proud  to  own." 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  233 

And  again  in  his  farewell  Odes,  nearly  of  the  same 
date,  he  advises  a  painter  to 

«  Be  pleased  like  Reynolds  to  direct  the  blind, 
Who  aids  the  feeble  faltering  feet  of  youth  5 

Unfolds  the  ample  volume  of  his  mind, 

With  genius  stor'd  and  Nature's  simple  truth." 

Exclaiming  also  in  anothar  part — 

"  Lo !  Reynolds  shines  with  undiminish'd  ray ! 
Keeps,  like  the  bird  of  Jove,  his  distant  way  : 
Yet,  simple  Portrait  strikes  too  oft  our  eyes, 
Whilst  History,  anxious  for  his  pencil,  sighs." 

Such  praises,  from  such  an  author,  may  well  be 
considered  as  sincere  and  genuine. 

Sir  Joshua  was  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  late 
illness  to  give  his  usual  discourse  on  the  tenth  of  De- 
cember, the  objects  of  which,  at  this  period,  were  the 
investigation  of  genius,  and  the  proof  that  it  refers  to 
the  taking  of  general  ideas  only,  and  consists  princi- 
pally in  the  comprehension  of  a  grand  whole. 

The  generally  received  opinion  of  the  worth  of 
Genius,  he  exemplified  by  the  position  that  it  was  the 
height  of  every  artist's  ambition,  wlio,  so  long  as  he 
could  procure  the  addition  of  the  supposed  possession 
of  this  quality  to  his  name,  will  always  patiently  bear 
any  imputation  of  incorrectness,  of  carelessness,  and. 
in  short,  of  any  other  defect. 

The  extravagant  length  to  which  this  desire  may 
be  sometimes  carried,  he  instanced  by  saying  that 
some  go  such  lengths  as  to  trace  its  indication  in  ab- 
solute faults,  not  only  exercising  such  faults  on  account 
of  genius,  but  actually  presuming  genius  from  theix 
existence. 

As  this  discourse  was  more  specifically  addressed  to 
artists  than  to  the  world  in  general,  I  shall  not  exam- 
ine it  further  than  to  introduce  his  definition  of  genius 
as  applied  to  a  painter;  and  he  says,  '^  this  Genius 
consists,  I  conceive,  in  the  power  of  expressing  that 


334  >  MEMOIRS  OF 

\vhich  employs  your  pencil,  whatever  it  may  be,  as  a 
u'hole;  so  that  the  general  effect  and  power  of  the 
whole  may  take  possession  of  the  mind,  and  for  a 
while  suspend  the  consideration  of  the  subordinate 
and  particular  beauties  or  defects.'' — In  addition  to 
which,  he  concluded  his  discourse,  by  stating,  that 
^^  the  great  busiuess  of  study  is,  to  form  a  mind, 
adapted  and  adequate  to  all  times  and  all  occasions  ; 
to  which  all  nature  is  then  laid  open,  and  which 
may  be  said  to  possess  the  key  of  her  inexhaustible 
riches." 

In  the  beginning  of  this  year  the  Academy  suffered 
a  very  considerable  loss  in  the  death  of  its  able  and 
active  keeper;  and  one  to  whom  the  Institution,  in  a 
great  degree,  owed  its  establishment.  The  demise  of 
Mr.  Moser,  the  first  person  who  held  the  office  in  the 
Royal  Academy,  was  honoured  by  Sir  Joshua,  in  a 
public  testimonial  to  his  memory,  which  was  inserted 
in  the  newspapers  of  the  day:  the  character  is  justly 
given  by  his  sincere  friend ;  and  as  it  relates  to  the 
arts,  as  well  as  to  the  subject  of  our  Memoir,  cannot, 
Avith  propriety,  be  omitted. 

It  is  now  given,  (says  Mr.  Malone,)  from  a  copy  in 
Sir  Joshua's  hand-writing. 

"  January  24,  1783. 

'*  Yesterday  died,  at  his  apartments  in  Somerset- 
place,  George  Michael  Moser,  Keeper  of  the  Royal 
Academy;  aged  seventy- eight  years.  He  was  a  native 
of  Switzerland,  but  came  to  England  very  young,  to 
follow  the  profession  of  a  chaser  in  gold,  in  which  art 
he  has  been  always  considered  as  holding  the  first 
rank.  But  his  skill  was  not  confined  to  this  ftlone ;  he 
possessed  an  universal  knowledge  in  all  branches  of 
painting  and  sculpture,  which  perfectly  qualified  him 
for  the  place  that  he  held  in  the  Academy,  the  business 
of  which  principally  consists  iu  superintending  and 
instructing  the  students,  who  draw  or  model  from  the 
antique  figures. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ^35 

'*  His  private  character  deserves  a  more  ample  tes- 
timony than  this  transient  memorial.  Few  have  passed 
a  more  inoffensive,  or,  perhaps,  a  more  happy  life;  if 
happiness,  or  enjoyment  of  life,  consists  in  having  the 
mind  always  occupied,  always  intent  upon  some 
useful  art,  by  which  fame  and  distinction  may  be  ac- 
quired. Mr.  Moser's  whole  attention  was  absorbed, 
either  in  practice,  or  sometliing  that  related  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  art.  He  may  truly  be  said,  in  every 
sense,  to  have  been  tlie  father  of  the  present  race  of 
artists ;  for  long  before  the  Royal  Academy  was  es- 
tablished, he  presided  over  the  little  societies  which 
met  first  in  Salisbury-court,  and  aftcwards  in  St. 
Martin's-lane,  where  they  drew  from  living  models. 
Perhaps  nothing  that  can  be  said  will  more  strongly 
imply  his  amiable  disposition,  than  that  all  tlie  dif- 
ferent societies  with  which  he  has  been  connected, 
have  always  turned  their  eyes  upon  him  for  their 
treasurer  and  ciiief  manager ;  when,  periiaps,  they 
would  not  have  contentedly  submitted  to  any  other 
authority.  His  early  society  was  composed  of  men 
whose  names  are  well  known  in  the  world ;  such  as 
Hogarth,  Rysbracii,  Roubiliac,  Wills,  Ellis,  Van- 
derbank,  &c. 

*^  Though  he  had  outlived  all  the  companions  of 
his  youth,  he  might,  to  the  last,  liave  boasted  of  a  suc- 
cession equally  numerous;  for  all  that  knew  him  were 
his  friends. 

"  When  he  was  appointed  Keeper  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  his  conduct  was  exemplary,  and  worthy  to 
be  imitated  by  whoever  shall  succeed  him  in  that 
office.  As  he  loved  the  employment  of  teaching,  he 
could  not  fail  of  discharging  that  duty  with  diligence. 
By  the  propriety  of  his  conduct  he  united  the  love  and 
respect  of  the  students ;  he  kept  order  in  the  Academy, 
and  made  himself  respected,  without  the  austerity  or 
importance  of  office ;  all  noise  and  tumult  immediately 
ceased  on  his  appearance;  at  the  same  time  there  was 
nothing  forbidding  in  his  manner,  which  might  restrain 

I  i 


S86  JNIEMOIRS  OF 

file  pupils  from  freely  applying  to  liira  for  advice  or 
assistance. 

*'  All  this  excellence  bad  a  firm  foundation  :  he 
"Was  a  man  of  sincere  and  ardent  piety,  and  lias  left 
nn  illustrious  example  of  the  exactness  Avitli  which 
the  subordinate  duties  may  be  expected  to  be  dis- 
charged by  him  whose  first  care  is  to  please  God. 

'»'  He  has  left  one  daughter  behind  him,  wiio  has 
distinguished  herself  by  the  admirable  manner  in 
wliicli  she  paints  and  composes  pieces  of  flowers,  of 
which  many  samples  have  been  seen  in  the  exhibi- 
tions. She  has  had  the  honour  of  being  much  employ- 
ed in  this  way  by  their  Majesties,  and  for  her  extra- 
ordinary merit  has  been  received  into  the  Royal 
Academy." 

Mr.  Lowe,*  the  painter,  as  stated  by  Mr.  Bosv^ell, 
in  his  Life  of  Johnson,  was  very  much  distressed  that 
a  large  picture  which  he  had  painted  was  refused  to 
be  received  into  the  Exhibition  of  the  lloyal  Acade- 
my;  and  as  he  was  intimate  with,  and  much  befriend- 
ed I)y,  Dr.  Johnson,  he  immediately  applied  to  him 
to  use  his  interest  with  Sir  Joshua  in  order  to  pro- 
cure its  admittance,  on  which  Johnson  sent  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  Sir  Joshua  Tleynolds,  which  letter  I 
have  seen,  and  another  to  Mr.  Barry,  who  at  that 
time  was  one  of  the  council. 


"  to  sir  joshua  keyxolds. 

^*  Sir, 

••  Mr.  Lowe  considers  himself  as  cut  oif  from  all 
credit  aud  all  hope,  by  the  rejection  of  his  picture 
from   the  Exhibition.    Upon  this  work  he  has  ex- 

*  Mr.  Lowe  vas  a  natural  son  of  the  late  Lord  Sutherland, 
from  whom  he  had  an  annuity.  He  was  much  esteemed  by  Dr. 
Johnsou,  wlio  bequeathed  him  a  legacy,  and  stood  to  one  of  his 
children  as  godlatlicr.  He  was  sent  to  Rome  by  the  patronage 
of  tlic  Royal  Academy,  in  consequence  of  his  having  gained 
the  gold  medal  in  1771;  and  died,  at  an  obscure  lodging  in 
Westminster,  September,  1793. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  237 

hausted  all   his   powers,  and   suspended   all  his  ex- 
pectations: and  certainly,  to  be  refused  an  opportuni- 
ty of  taking  the  opinion  of  the  public,  is,  in  itself,  a 
^yery  great  hardsiiip.   It  is  to  be  condemned  without  a 
atrial. 

^'  If  you  could  procure  the  revocation  of  this  inca- 
pacitating edict,  you  would  deliver  an  unhappy  man 
from  great  affliction.  The  council  lias  sometimes  re- 
versed its  own  determinations;  and  I  hope  that,  by 
your  interposition,  this  luckless  picture  may  be  got 
admitted. 

"  I  am,  &c., 

*<  Sam.  Johnson." 
AjJvil  12,  1783. 


^'  to  james  barry,  esq. 

*^  Sir, 

"  Mr.  Lowe's  exclusion  from  the  Exhibition 
gives  him  more  trouble  than  you  and  the  other  gentle- 
men of  the  council  could  imagine  or  intend.  He 
considers  disgrace  and  ruin  as  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  your  determination.  He  says,  that  some 
pictures  have  been  received  after  rejection;  and  if 
there  be  any  such  precedent,  1  earnestly  intreat  that 
you  will  use  your  interest  in  his  favour.  Qf  his  work 
1  can  say  nothing:  I  pretend  not  to  judge  of  painting; 
and  this  picture  I  never  saw :  but  I  conceive  it  ex- 
tremely hard  to  shut  out  any  man  from  the  possibility 
of  success ;  and  therefore  I  repeat  my  request,  th;\t 
you  will  propose  the  re-consideration  of  Mr.  Lowe's 
case;  and  if  there  be  any  among  the  council  with 
whom  my  name  can  have  any  weight,  be  pleased  to 
communicate  to  them  the  desire  of.  Sir, 

"  Your  most  humble  Servant, 

April  12,  1783,  "  Sam.  Johnson.'^ 


238  MEMOIRS  OF 

Sncli  intercession  was  too  powerful  to  be  resisted ; 
and  Mr.  Lowe's  performance  was  admitted  at  Somer- 
set House,  and  exhibited  there  in  an  empty  room. ' 
Tlie  subject  was  the  Deluge,  at  that  point  of  time 
when  the  water  was  rising  to  the  top  of  the  last  un- 
covered mountain.  Near  to  the  spot  was  seen  the  last 
of  the  antediluvian  race,  exclusive  of  those  who  were 
saved  in  the  ark  of  Noah.  This  was  tme  of  those 
giants,  then  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  who  had  still 
strength  to  swim,  and  with  one  of  his  hands  held  aloft 
his  infant  child.  Upon  the  small  remaining  dry  spot 
appeared  a  faraisl\ed  lion  ready  to  spring  at  the  child 
and  devour  it.  Mr.  Lowe  told  Bosvvell  that  Dr. 
Johnson  said  to  him,  "  Sir,  your  picture  is  noble  and 
probable."  "  A  compliment  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Lowe, 
*^  from  a  man  who  cannot  lie,  and  cannot  be  mistaken." 

In  this  speech  of  Mr.  Lowe's  Me  may  perceive 
how  easily  and  readily  vanity  or  conceit  can  give 
flattery  to  itself.  That  Johnson  would  not  lie  we  will 
admit:  but,  in  his  own  letter  to  Barry  he  allows  an 
ample  field  for  mistake,  as  he  confesses  he  knows 
nothing  of  the  art,  and  that  he  had  never  seen  the 
picture.  I  saw  the  picture  myself  when  it  was  ex- 
iiibited  in  an  anti  room  in  the  Academy,  and  then 
thought  it  had  been  much  better  for  Mr.  Lowe  if  he 
had  complied  with  the  first  decree  of  the  council ;  for 
if  the  conception  of  the  picture  had  been  good,  as  Dr. 
Johnson  insinuates,  yet  the  execution  of  it  was  ex- 
ecrable beyond  belief.  Johnson  was  also  mistaken  in 
saying  it  was  like  condemning  without  a  trial.  On 
the  contrary,  Mr.  Lowe  had  been  tried,  and  by  the 
fairest  jury,  that  of  his  peers,  those  of  the  same  pro- 
fession ;  and  the  world  confirmed  their  decision  to  be 
just,  as  the  picture,  wlien  shewn  in  public,  was 
universally  condemned. 

This  Mr.  Mauritius  I^owe  was  the  pupil  of  Mr. 
Cipriani,  but  improved  little  under  his  tuition.  He 
was  also  admitted  a  student  of  the  Royal  Academy 
among  the  first  of  those  who  entered  that  institution. 
In  this  situation  he  made  very  slender  advances  in  the 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  239 

art,  bein^  too  indolent  and  inattentive  to  his  studies  to 
attain  any  excellence.  But  it  is  remarkable,  that  lie 
was  the  person  who  obtained  the  gold  medal  lirst 
offered  by  the  Royal  Academy  to  the  student  who 
should  produce  the  best  historical  picture.  The  sub- 
ject given  was  Time  discovering  Truth. 

If  it  be  asked,  how  Mr.  Lowe,  though  deficient  as 
an  artist,  could  obtain  tiie  medal?  it  may  witli  truth  be 
said,  that  he  owed  his  success  to  the  partiality  of  the 
Italian  gentlemen,  members  of  the  Academy,  who 
voted  for  him  at  the  solicitation  of  jMr.  Barretti,  for 
whom  Mr.  Lowe  had  been  a  very  favourable  evidence 
on  his  trial  in  the  year  I76U :  for  it  is  very  certain 
that  Lowe's  was  not  the  best  of  the  pictures  offered 
for  the  premium. 

Of  this  year's  Exhibition  Dr.  Johnson  gives  some 
particulars  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Thrale,  thus  : 

"  On  Saturday  I  dined,  as  is  usual,  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  Exhibition.  Our  company  was  splendid, 
whether  more  numerous  than  at  any  former  time  I 
know  not.  Our  tables  seem  always  full.  On  Mon- 
day, if  I  am  told  truth,  were  received  at  the  door,  one 
hundred  and  ninety  pounds,  for  the  admission  of  three 
thousand  eight  hundred  spectators.  Supposing  the 
show  open  ten  hours,  and  the  spectators  staying  one 
with  another,  each  an  hour,  the  rooms  never  had  fewer 
than  three  hundred  and  eighty  jostling  against  each 
other.  Poor  Lowe  met  with  some  discouragement; 
but  I  interposed  for  him,  and  prevailed.'' 

Johnson's  manners  were  indeed  so  very  uncouth, 
that  he  was  not  ilt  to  dine  in  public;  I  remember  the 
first  time  I  ever  had  the  pleasure  to  dine  in  company 
with  him,  which  was  at  Sir  Joshua's  talde,  I  was 
previously  advised  not  to  seem  to  observe  him  in  eat- 
ing, as  his  manner  was  very  slovenly  at  his  meals,  and 
he  was  very  angry  if  he  thought  it  was  remarked. 

Mr.  Bosw^ell  in  this  year  records  an  opinion  of  Sir 
Joshua's  on  the  subject  of  conversation,  which  may  be 
noticed  in  this  place.  When  it  had  been  proposed  to 
add  some  members  to  the  Literary  Club,  (during 


240  MEMOIRS  OF 

GoUlsmitlrs  life)  that  writer  bad  said  in  favour  of  it, 
that  it  would  give  the  Club  an  agreeable  variety,  that 
there  could  then  be  nothing  new  among  the  members, 
and  that  they  had  travelled  over  each  other's  minds  ; 
to  wliich  Johnson  answered,  "  Sir,  you  have  not 
tia\elle(l  over  7ny  mind  I  promise  you  !''  When 
Sir  Joshua,  was  afterwards  told  of  this,  he  agreed 
with  Goldsmith,  saying  that  "  when  people  have 
lived  a  great  deal  together,  they  know  what  each 
of  them  will  say  on  the  subject.  A  new  under- 
standing, tlierefore,  is  desirable ;  because,  tliough  it 
may  only  furnish  the  same  sense  upon  a  question 
which  would  have  been  furnished  by  tliose  with 
whom  we  are  accustomed  to  live,  yet  this  sense  will 
have  a  difl'erent  colouring;  and  colouring  is  of  much 
effect  in  every  thing  else  as  well  as  in  painting.*' 

The  mention  of  Goldsmith  calls  to  my  recollection 
a  circumstance  related  to  me  by  Miss  Keynolds. 

About  the  year  1770,  Dr.  Goldsmith  lost  his 
mother,  who  died  in  Ireland.  On  this  occasion  he 
immediately  dressed  himself  in  a  suit  of  clothes  of 
grey  cloth  trimmed  with  black,  such  as  commonly  is 
worn  for  second  mourning.  When  he  appeared  the 
first  time  after  this  at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  house, 
Miss  F.  Reynolds  the  sister  of  Sir  Joshua,  asked 
him  whom  he  had  lost,  as  she  saw  he  wore  mourning? 
when  he  answered,  a  distant  relation  only;  being  shy, 
as  I  conjecture,  to  own  that  he  wore  such  slight 
mourning  for  so  near  a  relative.  This  appears  in  him 
an  unaccountable  blunder  in  wearing  such  a  dress:  as 
all  those  who  did  not  know  his  mother,  or  of  her 
death,  would  not  expect  or  require  him  to  wear 
mourning  at  all,  and  to  all  those  who  knew  of  his 
mother's  death  it  would  appear  not  to  be  the  proper 
dress  of  mourning  for  so  near  a  relative;  so  that  he 
satisfied  nobody  and  displeased  some;  for  Miss  Rey- 
nolds, who  afterwards  heard  of  her  death,  thought  it 
unfeeling  in  him  to  call  his  mother  a  distant  relation. 

Mr.  Barry  seems  at  this  period  to  have  given  vent 
to  some  of  his  spleen  against  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  S41 

by  a  publication  which  is  tlius  noticed  by  Dr.  Jolmson 
in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Tlirale,  on  the  1st  of  May. — "  Mr. 
Barry's  exhibition  was  opened  the  same  day,  and  a 
book  is  published  to  recommend  it,  which,  if  you 
read  it,  you  will  find  it  decorated  with  some  satirical 
pictures  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  and  others.  I  have 
;iot  escaped.  You  must,  however,  think  vi'ith  some 
estimation  of  Barry  for  the  comprehension  of  his 
design." 

This  attack  of  Barry's  certainly  arose  from  that 
morbid  disposition  in  his  own  mind  which  made  him 
often  quarrel  with  his  best  friends,  and  which  was 
perhaps  heightened,  at  the  present  moment,  by  an 
idea  that  Sir  Joshua's  influence  in  the  Academy  had 
not  been  in  his  favour. 

That  influence  was  certainly  great,  but  at  tjje  same 
time  always  justly  exerted  ;  and  on  the  following  day 
after  Johnson's  note  to  Mrs.  Thrale,  we  find  him 
soliciting  the  President's  interest  in  favour  of  his 
friend  Mr.  Cruikshanks  as  candidate  for  the  anato- 
mical professorship. 


"  to  sir  joshua  reynolds. 

'•'  Dear  Sir, 

"  The  gentleman  who  waits  on  you  with  this  is 
Mr.  Cruikshanks,  who  wishes  to  succeed  his  friend 
Dr.  Hunter,  as  Professor  of  Anatomy  in  the  Royal 
Academy.  His  qualifications  are  very  generally 
known,  and  it  adds  dignity  to  the  institution  that 
such  men  are  candidates. 

"  I  am  Sir, 

"  Your  most  humble  servant, 

May  2df  1783,  "  Sam.  Johnson." 


Johnson,  though  confessedly  ignorant  of  painting, 
seems  however  to  have  still  been  much  interested  in 


243  MEiMOIRS  OF 

tlie  success  of  tlie  Academy,  whose  exhibitions  were 
now  arriving;  at  a  great  pitch  of  perfection.  In  a  note, 
written  on  the  8tii  of  May,  he  says,  "  The  exhibition 
prospers  so  niucli,  that  Sir  Joshua  says  it  will  main- 
tain the  Academy  :  he  estimates  the  probable  amount 
at  3000/." 

While  Mr.  Barry  was  engaged  in  his  great  work 
at  the  Adelphi  Rooms,  Mr.  Penny  resigned  his 
situation  of  professor  of  painting  in  the  Royal  Acade- 
my, of  wliich  he  had  been  possessed  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  inf?titution,  when  Mr.  Barry  offered  to  fill 
the  vacant  chair  and  was  elected  to  it  in  1782. 
But  he  was  not  over  diligent  in  preparing  for  the 
duties  of  his  office ;  on  which  account  Sir  Joshua 
Jieynolds  made  some  remarks  npon  his  conduct,  to 
which  Barry  retorted  with  great  insolence  and  brutali- 
ty.   He  gave  his  first  lecture  March  2,  1784. 

In  tiiis  situation  his  turbulent  disposition  began  to 
express  itself.  His  lectures  very  soon  became  mere 
vehicles  of  invective  and  satire  against  the  principal 
Academicians,  and  most  pointedly  against  Sir  Joshua, 
who  was  reduced  by  it  to  so  awkward  a  situation  in 
his  chair  as  an  auditor,  that  he  was  obliged  at  last 
either  to  appear  to  be  asleep  or  to  absent  himself 
from  the  place.  After  the  death  of  Sir  Joshua  he  be- 
stowed high  praise  on  him  and  great  abuse  on  those 
who  were  still  alive,  till  at  length  a  regnlar  charge 
was  preferred  against  him,  and  it  was  found  to  be  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  dismiss  him  from  the  office  of 
lecturer,  and  also  from  the  Royal  Academy  in  1799. 

In  the  month  of  June  this  year,  Johnson  sat  for 
his  picture  to  Miss  Reynolds;  much  as  he  admired 
that  lady,  however,  he  did  not  compliment  her  upon 
that  production,  but  when  finished,  told  her  it  was 
*"  Johnson's  grimly  ghost  ;^'  and  as  the  picture  was 
afterwards  to  be  engraved,  he  recommended,  as  a 
motto,  the  appropriate  stanza  from  <he  old  ballad  of 
•'  William  and  Margaret." 

Dr.  Johnson  was  indeed  so  accustomed  to  say  al- 
ways the  exact  truth,  that  he  never  condescended  to 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  213 

give  an  equivocal  answer  to  any  question,  of  which 
the  following  is  an  instance. 

A  laily  of  his  acquaintance  once  asked  him  how  it 
happened  that  he  was  never  invited  to  dine  at  the 
tables  of  the  great? 

He  replied,  "  Because,  Madam,  great  lords  and 
ladies  do  not  like  to  have  their  mouths  stopped !" 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year,  great  and  important 
political  changes  were  taking  place  in  the  Nether- 
lands by  the  Emperor's  order,  particularly  the  sup- 
pression of  the  greatest  part  of  the  religious  and  mon- 
astic institutions,  which  was  expected  to  cause  the 
sale  of  a  great  number  of  llubens's  best  paintings. 
Many  persons  went  over  to  examine  them,  and 
amongst  the  rest  Sir  Joshua ;  and  he  took  both 
Brussels  and  Antwerp  in  his  route :  but  I  do  not 
possess  any  specific  knowledge  of  this  trip,  except 
that  he  made  some  further  excellent  observations, 
which  are  among  the  best  of  his  criticisms,  and  highly 
illustrative  of  the  merits  of  Rubens,  that  prince  of 
Flemish  painters. 

Mr.  Malone  has  preserved  some  of  his  observa- 
tions at  this  period,  and  he  says,  that  Sir  Joshua  on 
his  return  from  his  first  tour  in  1781,  thought  that  his 
own  vi^orks  seemed  to  want  force,  but  that  on  viewing 
the  paintings  of  Rubens  a  second  time,  they  even  ap- 
peared much  less  brilliant  than  on  a  former  inspec- 
tion. This  circumstance  he  was  at  first  unable  to  ac- 
count for,  until  he  recollected,  that  when  he  first  saw 
them  he  had  his  note  book  in  his  hand,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  writing  down  some  remarks,  which  he  con- 
sidered as  the  reason  of  their  now  making  a  less  vivid 
impression  in  this  respect  than  they  had  before  done ; 
for  by  the  eye  passing  immediately  from  the  white 
paper  to  the  picture,  the  colours  derived  uncommon 
richness  and  warmth ;  though  for  want  of  this  foil  they 
afterwards  appeared  comparatively  cold. 

But,  as  he  has  also  remarked,  on  his  return  the  first 
time,  that  his  own  pictures  wanted  force,  and  it  was 
observed  that  he  painted  with  more  depth  and  hril- 

Kk 


^14  MExMOIRS  OF 

lianry  of  colour  afterwards,  is  it  not  more  probable 
tbat  tbe  difference  of  tbe  impression  be  felt  from  tbe 
sight  of  Rubens's  pictures  was  owing  to  his  having 
accustomed  his  eye  in  the  mean  time  to  a  greater  force 
and  ricliness  in  his  own  works  ?  or,  at  any  rate,  this 
must  have  assisted  to  increase  the  impression  he  felt. 

Sir  Joshua  this  year  executed  several  admired 
portraits ;  but  in  the  midst  of  his  professional  engage- 
ments he  still  found  leisure  to  attend  to  literary  pur- 
suits, and  to  subjoin  some  very  elaborate  notes,  con- 
sisting principally  of  practical  observations  and  ex- 
planations of  the  rules  laid  down,  to  that  translation 
of  Du  Fresnoy's  Art  of  Painting  by  Mr.  Mason, 
which  was  published  at  this  period.  These  notes  are 
in  the  third  volume  of  his  works,  as  published  by 
JSIr.  Maloue. 

It  appears,  indeed,  if  the  world  owe  any  thing  to 
Mr.  Mason  for  this  production,  that  they  are  also 
partly  indebted  for  it  to  Sir  Joshua,  as  it  had  long 
lain  in  manuscript  unfinished,  in  Mr.  Mason's  library, 
and  was  only  at  len2;th  brought  forward  in  conse- 
quence of  his  having  reijueste*!  a  sight  of  it,  and  then 
freely  made  an  offer  of  illustrating  it  in  the  manner  he 
has  clone,  w  hich  renders  tiie  work  invaluable. 

One  professional  anecdote  which  Sir  Joshua  men- 
tions in  these  notes,  of  his  own  practice,  deserves 
notice  here. 

Speaking  of  Paul  Veronese,  Tintoret,  and  the 
other  painters  of  the  Venetian  School,  he  says, 
''  When  I  was  at  Venice,  the  method  I  took  to  avail 
myself  of  their  principles  was  this:  When  1  observed 
an  extraordinary  effect  of  light  and  shade  in  any 
picture,  I  took  a  leaf  out  of  my  pocket  book,  and 
darkened  every  part  of  it  in  the  same  gradation  of  light 
and  shade  as  the  picture,  leaving  the  white  paper 
untouched,  to  represent  the  light,  and  this  without 
any  attention  to  the  subject,  or  to  tlie  drawing  of  the 
figures.  A  few  trials  of  this  kind  will  be  suflBcient  to 
give  the  method  of  their  conduct  in  the  management  of 
their  lights.   After  a  few  experiments  I  found  the 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  g<|^ 

paper  blotted  nearly  alike;  their  general  practice 
appeared  to  be,  to  allow  not  above  a  quarter  of  the 
picture  for  the  light,  including  in  this  portion  both 
the  principal  and  secondary  lights ;  another  quarter  to 
be  kept  as  dark  as  possible ;  and  the  remaining  half 
kept  in  mezzotint,  or  half  shadow.  Rubens  appears 
to  have  admitted  rather  more  light  than  a  quarter,  and 
Rembrandt  much  less,  scarce  an  eighth ;  by  this  con- 
duct Rembrandt^s  light  is  extremely  brilliant,  but  it 
costs  too  much;  the  rest  of  the  picture  is  sacrificed  to 
this  one  object.  That  ligiit  will  certainly  appear  the 
brightest  which  is  surrounded  with  the  greatest  quan- 
tity of  shade,  supposing  equal  skill  in  the  artist. 

"  By  this  means  you  may  likewise  remark  the 
various  forms  and  shapes  of  those  lights,  as  well  as 
the  objects  on  which  they  are  flung  ;  whether  a  figure, 
or  the  sky,  a  white  napkin,  animals,  or  utensils,  often 
introduced  for  this  purpose  only.  It  may  be  observed, 
likewise,  what  portion  is  strongly  relieved,  and  how 
much  is  united  with  its  ground ;  for  it  is  necessary  that 
some  part  (though  a  small  one  is  sufficient,)  should  be 
sharp  and  cutting  against  its  ground,  whether  it  be 
light  on  a  dark,  or  dark  on  a  light  ground,  in  order 
to  give  firmness  and  distinctness  to  the  work ;  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  is  relieved  on  every  side,  it  will 
appear  as  if  inlaid  on  its  ground. 

<^  Such  a  blotted  paper,  held  at  a  distance  from  the, 
eye,  will  strike  the  spectator  as  something  excellent 
for  the  disposition  of  light  and  shadow,  thoVigh  he 
does  not  distinguish  whether  it  is  a  history,  a  por- 
trait, a  landscape,  dead  game,  or  any  thing  else;  for 
the  same  principles  extend  to  every  branch  of  the  art.*' 

This  recurrence  to  the  Venetian  painters  brings  to 
my  mind  a  little  circumstance  which  happened  at  the 
very  time  he  here  speaks  of  when  in  his  youth  study- 
ing at  Venice.  Being  one  night  at  the  opera,  the 
manager  of  the  house  ordered  the  band  to  ])lay  an 
English  ballad  tune  as  a  compliment  to  the  English 
gentlemen  then  residing  in  tiiat  city.  This  happened 
to  be  the  popular  air  which  was  played  or  sung  in  al- 


246  MEMOIRS  OF 

most  every  sfcreet  in  London  just  at  their  time  of 
leaving  it;  by  suggesting  to  them  that  metropolis,  with 
all  its  connexions  and  endearing  circumstances,  it  im- 
mediately brought  tears  into  our  young  painter's 
eyes,  as  well  as  into  those  of  his  countrymen  who 
were  present. 

Thus  nature  will  prevail,  and  Paul  Veronese, 
Tintoret,  and  even  Titian,  were  all  given  up  at  the 
moment,  from  the  delightful  prospect  of  again  re- 
turning to  his  native  land  after  an  absence  of  near 
three  years. 

To  return  to  the  period  of  our  narrative,  it  was  said 
in  a  contemporary  character  of  him  at  this  period, 
that  he  had  so  little  of  the  jealousy  of  his  profession, 
that  when  a  celebrated  English  artist,  on  his  arrival 
from  Italy,  asked  him  where  he  should  set  up  a  house. 
Sir  Joshua  told  him  that  the  next  house  to  his  own 
was  vacant,  and  that  he  had  found  his  own  situation  a 
very  good  one. 

It  is  also  recorded  as  an  instance  of  his  prizing  ex- 
traordinary merit,  that  when  Gainsborough  asked  him 
but  sixty  guineas  for  his  celebrated  girl  and  pigs,  yet 
being  conscious  in  his  own  mind  that  it  was  worth 
more,  he  liberally  paid  him  down  one  hundred 
guineas  for  the  picture. 

I  also  find  it  mentioned  on  record,  that  a  painter  of 
considerable  merit  having  unfortunately  made  an  in- 
judicious matrimonial  choice,  was,  along  with  that 
and  its  consequences,  as  well  as  an  increasing  family, 
in  a  few  years  reduced  so  very  low,  that  he  could  not 
venture  out  without  danger  of  being  arrested,  a  cir- 
cumstance which,  ii)  a  great  measure,  put  it  out  of  his 
power  to  dispose  of  his  pictures  to  advantage. 

Sir  Joshua  having  accidentally  heard  of  his  situa- 
tion, immediately  hurried  to  his  residence,  to  inquire 
into  the  truth  of  it,  when  the  unfortunate  man  told  him 
all  the  melancholy  particulars  of  his  lot,  adding,  that 
forty  pounds  would  enable  him  to  compound  with  his 
creditors. 


^■^ 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  24,7 

After  some  further  couversatiou,  Sir  Joshua  took 
his  leave,  telling  the  distressed  man  he  would  do 
something  for  him,  and  when  he  was  bidding  him 
adieu  at  the  door,  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  after 
squeezing  it  in  a  friendly  way,  "  hurried  ofl'with  that 
kind  of  triumph  in  his  heart,  the  exalted  of  human 
kind  only  experience,''  whilst  the  astonished  artist 
found  that  he  had  left  in  his  hand  a  bank  note  for  one 
hundred  pounds. 

Of  such  traits  of  benevolence  certainly  many  other 
instances  might  be  recorded,  but  1  shall  only  mention 
two. 

When  Zoffanii  the  painter,  came  to  England  he 
was  but  little  known  in  this  country,  and  without  a 
patron;  but  the  very  first  picture  which  he  exhibited 
in  London  was  pr.rchased  by  Sir  Joshua  at  the  price 
which  Zoffanii  demanded  for  it. 

The  picture  represents  a  scene  in  the  farce  of  the 
Alchymist,  in  which  there  is  a  most  excellent  portrait 
of  Garrick  in  the  character  of  Able  Drugger,  accom- 
panied by  those  of  Palmer  and  Burton.  This  picture 
Sir  Joshua  sold  soon  after  to  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  for 
twenty  guineas  above  the  price  which  he  had  given 
for  it,  and  sent  the  advanced  price  immediately  to 
Zoffanii,  saying,  "  he  thought  he  had  sold  the  picture 
at  first  below  its  real  value." 

The  clergyman  who  succeeded  Sir  Joshua's  father 
as  master  of  the  Grammar  School  at  Plymplon,  at  his 
decease  left  a  widow,  who  after  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band opened  a  boarding  school  for  the  education  of 
young  ladies.  The  governess  who  taught  in  this 
school  had  but  few  friends  in  situations  to  enable  them 
to  do  her  much  service,  and  her  sole  dependence  was 
on  her  small  stipend  from  the  school :  hence  she  was 
unable  to  make  a  sufficiently  reputable  appearance  in 
apparel  at  their  accustomed  little  balls.  The  daughter 
of  the  school-mistress,  her  only  child,  and  at  that  time 
a  very  young  girl,  felt  for  the  poor  governess,  and  the 
pitiable  insufficiency  in  the  article  of  finery,  but  being 
unable  to  help  her  from  her  own  resources  devised 


S48  MEMOIRS  OF 

within  herself  a  means  by  which  it  might  be  done 
otherwise. 

Having  heard  of  the  great  fame  of  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, his  character  for  generosity,  and  charity,  and 
recollecting  that  he  had  formerly  belonged  to  the 
Plympton  school,  she  without  mentioning  a  syllable 
to  any  of  her  companions  addressed  a  letter  to  Sir 
Joshua,  whom  she  had  never  even  seen,  in  which  she 
represented  to  him  the  forlorn  state  of  the  poor  gov- 
erness's wardrobe,  and  begged  the  gift  of  a  silk  gown 
for  her.  Very  shortly  after  they  received  a  box  con- 
taining silks  of  different  patterns,  sufficient  for  two 
dresses,  to  the  infinite  astonishment  of  the  simple 
governess,  who  was  totally  unable  to  account  for  this 
piece  of  good  fortune,  as  tiie  compassionate  girl  was 
afraid  to  let  her  know  the  means  she  had  taken  in 
order  to  procure  the  welcome  present. 

I  mentioned  the  circumstance  afterwards  to  Sir 
Joshua  who  assured  me  of  its  truth. 

In  the  year  178^'?  Sir  Joshua  had  a  pre-eminence 
of  pictures,  at  the  Exhibition,  the  principal  of  which 
Avere  the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  as  the  Tragic  Muse, 
now  the  property  of  William  Smith,  Esq.  M.  P., 
from  which  a  well  known  print  has  been  taken  ;  this 
picture  Sir  Joshua  valued  at  1000  guineas ;  the  For- 
tune-teller, sold  to  the  Duke  of  Dorset,  and  a  portrait 
of  Miss  Kemble.  The  last  of  these  drew  fortli  great 
applause  from  the  numerous  literary  friends  of  that 
lady.  And  the  following  poetic  tribute  to  his  skill, 
may  not  be  undeserving  of  insertion. 

"  While  hands  obscene,  at  vicious  grandeur's  call, 
With  mimic  harlots  clothe  th'  indignant  wall, 
Destructive  snares  for  youthful  passion  spread, 
The  slacken'd  bosom,  and  the  faithless  bed, 
Thy  pencil,  Reijnolds  1  innocently  gay, 
To  virtue  leads  by  pleasure's  flowery  way; 
In  blushing  honour  decks  the  tim'rous  bride. 
Or  maid  whose  thoughts  confederate  Angels  guide  j 
For  thy  rare  skill,  to  surface  unconfin'd. 
Through  every  genuine  feature  pours  the  mind. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  349 

Should  the  wild  rage  of  other  Fhi-ynes  compare 
With  Corinth's  past  the  British  drama's  fair, 
(Though  art  may  Palmer's  vanish'd  foim  deplore, 
And  Satchell's  eyes  unpictur'd  beam  no  more) 
If  firm  duration  crowns  thy  just  design, 
Nor  all  its  soft  similitudes  decline, 
In  Kemble's  look  chastis'd  will  yet  be  seen 
What  one  bright  daughter  of  the  stage  has  been — 
Reserv'd  though  mingling  with  the  loud,  the  vain, 
And  unseduc'd  where  Syren  pleasures  reign. 
Where  dames  undone  and  social  ruin  smile, 
While  echo'd  scandal  shakes  a  guilty  pile. 
Pleas'd  we  behold,  by  thy  congenial  hand, 
In  native  charms  euibodied  virtue  stand; 
For  vice  can  ne'er  its  odious  traces  hide. 
The  glance  of  lewdness,  or  the  swell  of  pride. 
Mark'd  to  be  shunn'd,  and  stigmatis'd  by  fate, 
Since  in  each  varied  guise,  of  scorn  or  hate. 
O'er  all  the  face  its  dire  eftusions  shoot. 
As  branches  still  are  modell'd  by  the  root. 
But,  for  our  love  when  grace  and  merit  vie, 
Attrack  the  decent,  check  the  lawless  eye, 
Th'  instructive  canvas  moral  worth  excites, 
And  Reynolds  paints  the  lessons  Johnson  writes. 
Should  time,  whose  force  our  hopes  in  vain  withstand, 
Blast  the  nymph's  face,  and  shake  the  painter's  hand, 
Yet  may  these  tints  divide  the  fame  they  give, 
And  art  and  beauty  bid  each  other  live  !' 

Another  painting  of  Sir  Joshua's  was  exhibited  this 
year  by  the  Society  for  promoting  Painting  and  De- 
sign at  Liverpool ;  which  was  a  landscape  containing 
a  view  on  the  Thames  from  his  own  villa  on  Rich- 
mond-hill. This  has  been  engraved  by  Birch  in  his 
"  Delices  de  la  Grand  Bretagne/'  and  was  one  of  the 
very  few  landscapes  ever  done  by  the  subject  of  our 
biography. 

In  regular  landscape-painting  his  works  are  very 
scarce ;  there  is,  as  I  have  been  informed,  one  in  the 
possession  of  Sir  Brook  Boothby,  Bart.,  another  in 
the  collection  of  Lord  Pelham  at  Stanmer,  and  two  he 
bequeathed  to  Sir  George  Baker,  Bart.  M.  D.  who 
attended  the  family;  these  are  of  course  with  the  ex- 


250  MEMOIRS  OF 

ceptions  of  those  chaste  and  exquisite  ones  which  so 
often  form  a  hack  gromul  to  liis  portraits. 

Soon  after  this,  Sir  Josliua  interested  himself  most 
strenuously  for  his  friend  Dr.  Johnson,  in  order  to 
procure  an  additional  grant  from  the  crown  as  an  in- 
crease to  his  pension,  in  order  to  enahle  him  to  try  the 
air  of  tlie  South  of  France,  and  Italy,  for  his  declining 
health.  Sir  John  Hawkins  in  his  life  of  Johnson 
gives  all  the  credit  to  this  negoeiation,  at  least  of  its 
coramenceraent,  to  Sir  Joshua,  whilst  Mr.  Boswell 
claims  the  merit  of  iiaving  written  the  first  letter  on 
the  subject  to  Lord  Thurlow,  then  Lord  Chancellor. 

The  various  details  of  the  event  have  been  so  often 
related  by  Johnson's  biographers,  that  I  need  not 
enter  further  on  it  tlian  to  say,  that  it  met  with  Sir 
Joshua's  cordial  concurrence  and  assistance  from  the 
first,  and  was  attended  to  by  him  with  much  assiduity 
during  the  progress,  from  his  earnest  wish  for  the 
welfare  of  his  venerable  friend. 

On  the  death  of  Ramsay,  the  King's  painter,  in 
August  of  this  year,  Sir  Joshua  was  sworn  principal 
painter  to  his  Majesty,  to  which  a  small  salary  is 
also  annexed;  but  this^  of  course,  was  not  the  object 
of  Sir  Joshua's  ambition. 

In  tliis  year  Charles  Catton,  a  Royal  Academician, 
was,  by  rotation,  become  master  of  the  Painter 
Stainers  Company  of  the  city  of  London,  and  he  was 
particularly  ambitious  of  introducing  his  friend,  and 
a  man  so  celebrated  as  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  to  share 
in  their  corporate  honours  ;  accordingly  the  brothers 
voluntarily  voted  him  the  freedom  of  their  company, 
which  was  presented  to  him  when  he  dined  at  their 
hall  on  St.  Luke's  day,  the  patron  saint  of  painters. 
This  favor,  so  properly  and  well  bestowed,  he  re- 
ceived with  due  respect.  This  crivic  compliment  was 
accompanied  by  a  copy  of  verses  in  honour  of  their 
new  brother  citizen;  in  which  the  Muses  were  in- 
voked to  celebrate  his  praise  and  an  event  so  im- 
portant.— X  compliment,  on  the  whole,  which  pleased 
Sir  Joshua  not  a  little. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  g51 

The  lines  may  be  found  in  the  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine for  that  year,  page  854;  they  are  not  indifferent- 
ly written ;  a  portion  of  taste  is  even  displayed  in  some 
of  the  passages,  but  it  is  very  possible  that  their 
dinner  was  still  better  than  their  poetry,  and  their 
respect  more  gratifying  than  either. 

Sir  Joshua  now  met  with  an  irreparable  loss  in  the 
demise  of  his  friend,  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  who  died 
on  the  13th  of  December,  1784*. 

The  particulars  of  this  event  have  been  so  often 
recorded,  that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  detail  them 
here ;  I  may  observe,  however,  that  Mr.  Boswell  has 
justly  stated,  that  the  Doctor  made  three  requests  of 
Sir  Joshua  a  short  time  previous  to  his  death:  one 
was  to  forgive  him  thirty  pounds  which  he  had  bor- 
rowed of  him  ;  another  was,  that  Sir  Joshua  should 
carefully  read  the  Scriptures ;  and  the  last,  that  he 
should  abstain  from  using  his  pencil  on  the  sabbath 
day:  to  all  of  which  Sir  Joshua  gave  a  willing  assent. 

Johnson  had  appointed  him  one  of  the  executors  of 
his  will,  along  with  Sir  William  Scott  and  Sir  John 
Hawkins ;  a  trust  which  he  faithfully  fulfilled;  he  also 
left  him  his  great  French  Dictionary,  by  Moreri,  and 
his  own  copy  of  his  folio  English  Dictionary,  of  the 
last  revision,  as  a  friendly  testimony  of  remembrance; 
also  a  book  from  his  library  to  Mrs.  Frances  Rey- 
nolds, sister  to  Sir  Joshua. 

What  the  feelings  of  Sir  Joshua  must  have  been 
on  this  occasion  may  be  easily  conceived,  and  it  has 
been  well  described  by  Mr.  Boswell  in  his  dedication 
of  his  "  Life  of  Johnson,"  some  time  afterwards. 
This  dedication  is  at  the  same  time  so  honourable  to, 
and  descriptive  of.  Sir  Joshua,  in  many  respects,  that 
1  trust  I  sliall  be  excused  for  the  insertion  of  part  of 
it  in  this  place. 

Mr.  Boswell  says,  ^^  Every  liberal  motive  that  can 
actuate  an  author  in  the  dedication  of  his  labours, 
concurs  in  directing  me  to  you,  as  the  person  to  whom 
the  following  work  should  be  inscribed.  If  there  be 
a  pleasure  in  celebrating  the  distinguished  merit  of  a 
\A 


^252  MEMOIRS  OF 

contemporary,  mixed  with  a  certain  degree  of  vanity 
not  allo2;etlier  inexcusable,  in  appearing  fully  sensible 
of  it,  where  can  I  find  one  in  complimenting  whom  I 
ran  with  more  general  approbation  gratify  those  feel- 
ings? Your  excellence,  not  only  in  the  art  over  which 
you  have  long  presided  with  unrivalled  f^ime,  but  also 
in  pliilosophy  and  elegant  literature,  is  well  known  to 
the  present,  and  will  continue  to  be  the  admiration  of 
future  ages.  Your  equal  and  placid  temper,  your 
variety  of  conversation,  your  true  politeness,  by  which 
you  are  so  amiable  in  private  society,  and  that  en- 
larged hospitality  wliich  has  long  made  your  house  a 
common  centre  of  union  for  the  great,  the  accomplish- 
ed, the  learned,  and  tiie  ingenious;  all  these  qualities 
I  can,  in  perfect  contidence,  of  not  being  accused  of 
flattery,  ascribe  to  you.  If  a  man  may  indulge  in  an 
iionest  pride,  in  having  it  known  to  the  world,  that  he 
has  been  thought  wortliy  of  particular  attention  by  a 
person  of  the  first  eminence  in  the  age  in  which  he 
lives,  whose  company  has  been  universally  courted,  I 
am  justified  in  availing  myself  of  the  usual  privilege 
of  a  dedication,  when  I  mention  that  there  has  been  a 
long  and  uninterrupted  friendship  between  us.  If 
gratitude  should  be  acknowledged  for  favours  re- 
ceived, 1  have  tliis  opportunity,  my  dear  Sir,  most 
sincerely  to  thank  you  for  the  many  happy  hours 
■which  I  owe  to  your  kindness — for  the  cordiality 
with  which  you  have,  at  all  times,  been  pleased  to 
welcome —  for  the  number  of  valuable  acquaintances 
to  whom  you  have  introduced  me — for  the  nodes 
cocnceqne  Jhiun  which  I  have  enjoyed  under  your 
roof.  If  a  work  should  be  inscribed  to  one  who  is 
master  of  the  subject  of  it,  and  whose  approbation, 
therefore,  must  insure  it  credit  and  success,  the  Life 
of  Dr.  Johnson  is,  with  the  greatest  propriety,  dedi- 
cated to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  was  the  intimate 
and  beloved  friend  of  that  great  man  ;  the  friend  whom 
he  declared  to  be  the  most  invulnerable  man  he  knew, 
w  ith  whom,  if  he  should  quarrel,  he  should  find  the 
most  difficulty  how  to  abuse.     You,   my  dear  Sir, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  '    g^iS 

studied  him,  and  knew  him  well.   You  venerated  and 
admired  him." 

To  this  testimony  of  Boswell,  it  will  certainly  not 
be  misplaced  to  add  some  few  other  observations  of 
Johnson  himself  respecting  his  friend. 

In  one  place,  Boswell  records  that  he  much  ad- 
mired tiie  manner  in  which  Sir  Joshua  treated  of  his 
art,  in  his  discourses  to  the  Royal  Academy.  Of  one 
remarkable  passage,  he  said,  "  I  think  I  might  as 
well  have  said  this  myself;"  and  on  another  occasion, 
vv^hilst  Mr.  Bennet  Langton  was  sitting  with  him,  he 
read  one  of  them  with  great  attention,  and  exclaimed, 
"  Very  well,  Master  Reynolds ;  very  well  indeed. 
But  it  will  not  be  understood." 

Johnson  once  observed,  '^  I  know  no  man  who  has 
passed  through  life  with  more  observation  than  Rey, 
nolds;  and  Boswell  himself  has  very  justly  said, 
*•  that  his  philosophical  penetration,  and  justness  of 
thinking  were  not  less  known  to  those  who  lived  with 
him,  than  his  genius  in  his  art  is  admired  by  the 
world." 

Johnson  had  so  high  an  opinion  of  Sir  Joshua's 
benevolence  of  disposition,  that  he  said  to  him  once 
with  a  smile.  "  Reynolds,  you  hate  no  person  living. 
But  I  like  a  good  hater." 

It  seems  by  this  speech  that  Johnson  conceived 
that  a  good  hater,  as  he  termed  it,  was  one  who  would 
feel  the  strongest  degree  of  attachment  to  those  who 
were  so  fortunate  as  to  gain  their  love,  and  also  that  it 
might  proceed  probably  from  a  mind  that  made  strong 
distinctions  in  character :  but  it  is  certainly  a  danger- 
ous doctrine. 

I  remember,  however,  that  I  once  heard  Sir  Joshua 
say,  that  he  thought  it  a  very  bad  state  of  mind  to 
hate  any  man,  but  that  he  feared  that  he  did  hate 
Barry,  and  if  so,  he  had  much  excuse,  if  excuse  be 
possible.  The  hatred  of  sucli  a  man  is  no  trifling  dis- 
grace ;  still  I  am  convinced  that  this  sentiment  never 
influenced  his  conduct  towards  him. 


25^  MEMOIRS  OF 

I  may  now  remark  that  they  lie  sitle-by-side  iu 
the  grave. 

Three  clays  before  Johnson's  decease,  Sir  Joshua 
delivered  his  twelfth  discourse  at  the  Academy,  which 
was  principally  of  professional  import.  He  laid  it 
down  as  a  truism  that  particular  methods  of  study  are 
of  little  consequence,  and  that  little  of  the  art  can  be 
taught. 

The  love  of  method,  he  considered  as  often  arising 
from  a  disposition  to  mental  idleness,  whilst  at  the 
same  time  he  acknowledged  that  -^  Pittori  improvisa- 
tori,''  as  he  terms  tliem,  are  apt  to  be  careless  and 
incorrect,  and  are  very  seldom  either  original  or 
striking;  defects  proceeding  from  their  not  paying  the 
proper  attention  to  the  works  of  Nature  and  the  great 
masters. 

From  some  observations  in  the  early  part  of  this  dis- 
course, it  seems  as  if  its  subject  had  been,  in  some 
measure,  pressed  upon  Sir  Joshua,  or  rather  perhaps 
hinted  to  him ;  for  in  taking  a  view  of  the  "  Method 
of  Study,"  he  expressly  said  that  all  the  necessary  in- 
formation had  already  been  given  in  his  former  dis- 
courses, and  that  any  other  would  merely  consist  of 
plausible  but  ostentatious  amplification,  and  would 
therefore  be  totally  useless.  On  this  point  he  made 
an  observation  highly  worthy  of  general  notice  in  this 
educating  age.  *^  Treatises  on  education,  and  Method 
of  Study  have  always  appeared  to  me  to  have  one 
general  fault.  They  proceed  upon  a  false  supposition 
of  life ;  as  if  we  possessed,  not  only  a  power  over 
events  and  circumstances,  but  had  a  greater  power 
over  ourselves  than  I  believe  any  of  us  will  be  found 
to  possess !" 

Again  he  observed,  '^  In  the  practice  of  art,  as  well 
as  in  morals,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  a  watchful  and 
jealous  eye  over  ourselves:  idleness,  assuming  the 
specious  disguise  of  industry,  will  lull  to  sleep 
all  suspicion  of  our  want  of  an  active  exertion  of 
strength," 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  255 

Much  interest  was  excited  among  the  Dilletanti  in 
the  course  of  this  year,  by  a  discovery  Sir  Joshua 
made  of  an  original  painting  of  Milton,  which  he  pur- 
chased for  one  hundred  guineas,  from  a  picture  dealer 
who  had  obtained  it  from  a  common  furniture  broker, 
who  could  not  remember  the  time  nor  manner  in  which 
he  came  by  it.  In  this  portrait  tlie  dress  is  black  with 
a  band;  the  date  1653,  and  the  painter's  initials 
(S.  C.)  are  marked  upon  it.  On  the  back  of  it  was  a 
written  memorandum,  stating  that  this  portrait  had 
belonged  to  Deborah  Milton,  who  Avas  her  father's 
amanuensis,  and  that  at  her  death  it  was  sold  to  Sir 
William  Davenant's  family.  It  also  stated  that  the 
portrait  was  painted  by  Samuel  Cooper,  who  was 
painter  to  Oliver  Cromwell,  at  the  time  when  Milton 
was  Latin  Secretary  to  the  Protector,  and  that  the 
Poet  and  Painter  were  nearly  of  the  same  age,  Milton 
being  born  in  1608,  and  dying  in  1674;  and  Cooper 
being  born  in  1609,  and  dying  in  I67S;  they  being 
companions  and  friends  till  death  parted  them.  It  was 
also  stated,  that  several  encouragers  and  lovers  of  the 
Fine  Arts  at  that  time  wanted  this  picture,  particular- 
ly Lord  Dorset,  John  Somers,  Esq.  Sir  Robert  How- 
ard, Dryden,  Atterbury,  Dr.  Aldrich,  and  Sir  John 
Den  ham. 

Mr.  Warton,  who  notices  this  portrait  particularly 
in  his  edition  of  Milton  says,  that  Lord  Dorset  was 
probably  the  lucky  man,  as  this  seems  to  be  tiie  very 
picture  which  Vertue  wished  Prior  to  seek  lor  in 
Lord  Dorset's  collection  ;  but  in  another  he  adds,  that 
it  must  be  owned  that  this  miniature  strongly  resem- 
bles Vandyke's  picture  of  Selden  in  the  Bodleian 
Library  at  Oxford,  it  being  highly  probable  that 
Cooper  should  have  executed  a  miniature  of  Selden 
as  a  companion  to  the  heads  of  other  heroes  of  the 
commonwealth.  This  inference,  however,  is  equally 
applicable  to  the  supposition  of  its  being  Milton's ; 
and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  himself  said  of  it,  "  The 
picture  is  admirably  painted,  and  with  such  a  charac- 
ter of  nature,  that  I  am  perfectly  sure  it  was  a  striking 


2j6  memoirs  of 

likeness.  I  have  now  got  a  distant  idea  of  the  coun- 
tenance of  Milton,  whicli  cannot  be  got  from  any  other 
than  that  I  have  seen.  It  is  perfectly  preserved, 
which  shows  that  it  has  been  shut  up  in  some  drawer; 
if  it  had  been  exposed  to  the  light,  the  colours  would, 
long  before  this,  have  vanished." 

A  doubt  having  been  started  some  years  afterwards 
respecting  the  originality  and  authenticity  of  this 
miniature,  a  letter  was  inserted  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  for  1791?  in  answer  to  one  in  a  preceding 
number,  containing  some  strictures,  and  expressing 
various  doubts  on  the  sul>ject. 

To  these  tsrictures  and  doubts,  the  letter  was  a  very 
conclusive  and  argumentative  reply;  and  as  it  is  now 
well  known  to  have  been  the  production  of  Sir 
Joshua's  pen,  and  is  not  inserted  in  his  works,  I 
shall  here  give  it  a  place. 

*^  Mr.  Urban,  June  i5. 

"  A  correspondent  in  your  last  Magazine,  p. 
399,  has  made  some  strictures  respecting  the  origin- 
ality of  the  portrait  of  Milton,  in  the  possession  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  on  which  I  beg  leave  to  make 
some  observations.  That  your  readers  may  have  a 
distinct  view  of  the  question,  I  shall  transcribe  the 
writing  which  is  on  the  back  of  the  picture. 

"  '  This  picture  belonged  to  Deborah  Milton,  who 
was  her  father's  amanuensis ;  at  her  death  it  was  sold 
to  Sir  William  Davenant's  family :  it  was  painted  by 
Mr.  Samuel  Cooper,  who  was  painter  to  Oliver  Crom- 
well at  the  time  Milton  was  Latin  Secretary  to  the 
Protector.  The  painter  and  Poet  were  near  of  the 
same  age,  (Milton  was  born  in  1608,  and  died  in 
16/4;  Cooper  was  born  in  1609,  and  died  in  167^;) 
and  were  companions  and  friends  till  death  parted 
them.  Several  encouragers  and  lovers  of  the  fine  arts 
at  that  time  wanted  this  picture,  particularly  Lord 
Dorset,  John  Somers,   Esq.  Sir   Robert   Howard, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  2^7 

Uryden,  Atterbury,  and  Dr.  Aldrich^  Sir  John  Uen- 
liam.' 

*•  Your  critic  first  observes,  that  Deborah  Milton, 
dying  in  17^7?  all  those  encouragers  and  lovers  of  tlie 
fine  arts  here  mentioned,  were  dead  long  before  that 
time.  Secondly,  he  remarks,  that  the  picture  could 
not  belong  to  the  Dorset  family  in  1720,  which  be- 
longed to  Deborah  Milton  in  I727.  He  asks,  like- 
wise, what  can  be  meant  by  the  miniature  having 
been  sold  to  the  family  of  Sir  William  Davenant,  as 
the  memorandum  bears  so  late  a  date  as  17^7?  These 
objections,  I  will  suppose  for  the  credit  of  the  writer, 
would  not  have  been  made  if  he  had  seen  the  prbit, 
under  which  he  would  have  found  tlie  following  re- 
mark : 

"  The  manuscript  on  the  back  of  the  picture  ap- 
pears to  have  been  written  some  time  before  the  year 
1693,  when  Mr.  Somers  was  knighted,  and  after- 
wards created  Baron  Evesham,  wliicli  brings  it  with- 
in nineteen  years  after  Milton's  death.  The  writer 
was  mistaken  in  supposing  Deborah  Milton  was  dead 
at  that  time;  she  lived  till  17-7?  but  in  indigence  and 
obscurity,  married  to  a  weaver  in  Spitalfields. 

"  There  is  no  reason  to  think  (notwithstanding  Mr. 
Warton's  supposition,  that  Lord  Dorset  was  probably 
the  lucky  man  who  purchased  the  picture,)  that  it 
ever  was  in  Lord  Dorset's  possession.  Vertue,  indeed, 
had  desired  Prior  to  search  in  his  Lordship's  collec- 
tion for  this  miniature,  probably  from  the  suggestion 
of  Richardson,  whose  son  Jonathan  informed  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  that  he  had  heard  his  father  say, 
that  there  was  somewhere  a  miniature  of  Milton,  by 
Cooper,  which,  he  was  told,  was  a  remarkable  fine 
picture,  but  that  he  himself  had  never  seen  it.  Per- 
haps Lord  Dorset  was  thought  likely  to  have  been  the 
possessor  of  this  picture,  because  he  formed  a  large 
collection  of  portraits  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  his 
time,  which  are  still  to  be  seen  at  Knowle.  I  cannot 
avoid  adding,  that  the  present  Duke,  with  equal  respect 
to  genius  and  talents,  and  with  still  more  skill  in  the 


238  MEMOIRS  OF 

art,  continues  this  plan ;  and  to  this  collection  of  his  an- 
cestor has  aildeil  the  portraits  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Dr. 
Goldsmith,  Mr.  Garrick,  and  many  others. — The 
third  oI)jection  is  easily  answered :  there  is  no  date  at 
all  to  the  memorandum ;  and,  so  far  from  its  bearing 
so  late  a  date  as  17^7?  it  is  very  apparent  it  was 
written  before  the  year  1093,  and  that  the  writer  of  it 
was  probably  Sir  William  Davenant's  son,  who  was 
at  this  time  thirty-seven  years  old ;  and  the  picture 
may  be  supposed  to  be  at  that  time  wanted  by  Lord 
Dorset,  John  Somers,  Esq.  &c.  The  critic  says,  '  I 
never  had  an  ojiportunity  of  seeing  the  original  minia- 
ture in  question,  and,  unfortunately,  the  print  by  Miss 
Watson  has  never  fallen  in  my  way ;  but  I  sliould 
wish  to  know  whether  the  drop  serene  be  visible  in  it, 
as  in  Faithorue's  drawing,  and  in  the  bust.  The  date 
on  the  miniature  is  165S,  by  which  time  Milton  had 
become  utterly  blind.' 

""  In  regard  to  the  drop  serene,  we  can  assure  your 
correspondent  that  it  is  not  visible  in  the  miniature, 
and  that  he  is  mistaken  in  saying  that  it  is  visible  in 
the  crayon  picture  by  Faithorne;  and  that  it  is  visible 
in  the  bust,  as  he  affirms,  is  truly  ridiculous.  Milton 
himself  says,  that,  though  he  had  lost  his  sight,  it  was 
not  perceptible  to  others ;  and  that  his  eyes  preserved 
their  original  lustre. 

"  The  date  on  the  picture  is  1653,  and  not  165S. 
This  inaccuracy  is  of  no  great  consequence  :  but  how 
did  he  know  that  there  was  any  date  at  all,  as  he  says 
he  never  saw  the  picture  ? 

^'  That  Deborah  Milton  recognized  her  father's 
picture,  does  not  prove  that  she  might  not  have  been 
still  more  struck  with  the  likeness  of  the  miniature. 
One  is  at  a  loss  to  know  upon  what  ground  it  is 
assumed  (by  a  person  who  never  saw  the  picture  or 
the  print,)  that,  if  Faithorne's  be  like,  the  miniature 
is  not  like :  and  still  less  can  it  be  conceived  why  ho 
thinks  th;it  '  the  likeness  in  Sir  Joshua's  picture  can- 
not be  a  striking  likeness  of  Milton,  whatever  it  may 
be  of  Seklen.'   How  came  Selden into  his  head?  Here 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


259 


some  suspicion  arises  that  he  has  seen  the  picture  and 
the  print,  a  circumstance  which  he  chooses  to  conceal, 
as  the  comment  hy  Sir  Joshua  on  the  priut  would  have 
prevented  the  parade  of  his  criticism. 

"  The  opinion  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  in  matters 
relating  to  his  own  profession,  certainly  ought  to  have 
some  weight.  He  is  not  likely  to  be  wanting  in  that 
skill  to  which  every  other  artist  pretends,  namely,  to 
form  some  judgment  of  the  likeness  of  a  picture  with- 
out knowing  the  original.  It  appears  that  Sir  Joshua 
told  Warton,  that  he  was  perfectly  sure  that  ^  the 
picture  in  his  possession  was  a  striking  likeness,  and 
that  an  idea  of  Milton's  countenance  cannot  be  got 
from  any  of  the  other  pictures.'  Without  being  an 
artist,  it  is  easily  perceived  that  the  picture  of  Faithorne 
does  not  possess  that  individuality  of  countenance 
which  is  in  the  miniature. 

"  There  is  something  very  perverse  in  believing 
that  an  ordinary,  common-place  portrait,  painted  by 
an  engraver  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  print  from  it, 
should  be  preferred,  or  be  supposed  to  be  more  like, 
than  the  best  picture  of  the  first  miniature  painter, 
perhaps  that  ever  lived.  Cooper  possessed  all  tiie 
correctness,  precision,  and  all  the  attention  to  peculi- 
arity of  expression,  which  we  admire  in  Vandyke ; 
"whereas  Faithorne  imitated,  as  well  as  he  could,  the 
lax  and  vicious  manner  then  introduced  by  Sir  Peter 
Lely,  who,  though  upon  the  wiiole  an  ingenious  artist, 
stands  in  the  first  rank  of  what  the  painters  csWman- 
nerists.  We  may  add,  in  regard  to  Faithorne,  that, 
however  he  might  be  distinguished  among  his  con- 
temporaries, and  since  by  the  curious  in  old  prints, 
bis  merit  as  an  engraver  (and  much  less  as  a  painter,} 
were  he  now  living,  would  not  raise  him  above  the 
rank  of  the  common  herd  of  artists.  It  does  not  ap- 
pear that  Deborah  Milton,  when  Faithorne's  picture 
was  shewn  to  her,  said  any  tiling  to  confirm  us  in  the 
opinion  of  its  being  so  extremely  like  :  she  exclaimed, 
'  O,  Lord !  that  is  the  picture  of  my  father.'  She 
probably  had  seen  the  picture  before,  and  it  is  even 
II  m 


£60  MEMOIRS  OF 

probable  that  she  was  present  when  it  was  painted; 
and,  when  she  saw  it  again,  slie  immediately  re- 
cognized it,  as  she  would  have  done  her  fatlier's 
watcl),  buckles,  or  any  other  appendage  to  his  person. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  Milton  sat  to  Fait- 
horne  for  that  crayon  picture ;  the  distinguishing 
features  are  the  same  as  in  the  miniature;  the  same 
large  eyelid,  the  same  shaped  nose  and  mouth,  and 
the  same  long  line  which  reaches  from  the  nostril  to 
below  tlie  corners  of  the  mouth,  and  the  same  head  of 
hair;  but  if  the  effect  and  expression  of  the  whole 
together  should  be,  as  in  fact  it  is,  different  in  the  two 
pictures,  it  cannot,  I  should  think,  be  difficult  for  us 
to  detl^mine  on  which  side  our  faith  ought  to  incline, 
even  though  neither  possessed  any  strong  marks  of 
identity. 

"  All  the  objections  that  have  been  made  by  your 
correspondent,  I  hope,  have  been  answered,  and 
some,  perhaps,  which  the  reader  will  think  were 
scarcely  worthy  of  an  answer.  There  is  no  occasion 
to  take  notice  of  objections  which  are  tnade  in  order 
to  be  confuted,  namely,  the  pains  the  critic  takes  to 
obviate  a  supposition  which  nobody  ever  supposed, 
that  the  writer  of  the  memorandum  on  the  back  might, 
by  mistake,  write  her  death  instead  of  his  death. 
This  is  to  raise  conjectures  in  order  to  triumph  in 
their  confutation ! 

"  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  to  whom  the  miniature  was  shewn 
at  the  Archbishop  of  York's  table,  and  whose  skill  in 
matters  of  this  kind  is  universally  acknowledged, 
scouted  the  question  which  was  there  put  to  him, 
*  Whether  he  thought  the  manuscript  was  a  late  fabri- 
cation?'  ^  The  orthography,  as  well  as  the  colour  of  the 
ink,  shews  it  to  have  been  written  about  a  hundred 
years  since.'  He  then  remarked  the  mistake  of  the 
writer  in  supposing  that  Deborah  Milton  was  dead  at 
the  time  he  wrote;  and,  though  your  correspondent 
thinks  that  this  mistake  is  a  sufficient  reason  for 
calling  the  whole  a  palpable  fiction,  we  may  reasona- 
bly oppose  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  opinion  to  that  of  your 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  261 

anonymous  correspondent,  of  whom  we  may  say,  if 
he  had  possessed  a  greater  share  of  critical  sagacity, 
he  would  have  remarked,  that  even  the  mistake  of 
supposing  Deborah  Milton  to  be  dead  when  he  wrote, 
shews  it  to  be  not  what  he  calls  it,  a  fiction.  A  man 
who  deals  in  fiction  takes  care,  at  least,  not  to  be  easily 
detected.  No  man  in  these  later  days  but  knows  that 
Deborah  Milton  lived  till  17^7?  as  that  circumstance 
was  made  notorious  to  the  world  from  Richardson's 
Life  of  Milton,  and  from  the  benefit  play  which  was 
given  to  Deborah's  daughter  in  the  year  1752.  I  be- 
lieve Richardson  (who,  as  Dr.  Johnson  says,  was  one 
of  Milton's  fondest  admirers,)  was  the  first  who  made 
any  inquiry  after  Milton's  family,  and  found  his 
daughter  Deborah  to  be  still  living. 

^'  I  cannot  conclude  without  making  one  observa- 
tion. Before  a  writer  indulges  himself  in  the  self-con- 
gratulation of  victory,  or  laughing  at  the  slip  wjjich  he 
fancies  others  have  made,  he  should  be  sure  of  tlje 
steadiness  of  his  own  footing. 

"  Your  correspondent  reprehends  Tom  Warton  for 
his  inaccuracy  in  historical  points ;  he  blames  the  ag- 
gravated  immorality  of  the  seller  of  the  picture  '  in 
imposing  on  so  fair  and  worthy  a  man  as  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds ;'  treating  him  as  a  bon  homme,  and  the 
whole  ^  as  a  palpable  fiction,  drawn  up  by  some  per- 
son ignorant  of  history,  who  furnished  out  a  tale  with 
very  scanty  materials.'  Whether  this  was  the  case, 
the  reader  will,  I  imagine,  not  find  it  very  difficult  to 
determine.  R,  J. 

"  P.  S.  The  progress  of  the  picture  seems  to  be 
this:- — Milton  dying  insolvent,  and  Deborah  Milton 
of  course  in  great  indigence,  it  is  very  improbable  that 
she  would  keep  to  herself  a  picture  of  such  value ;  it 
was  therefore  sold,  as  we  suppose,  to  the  author  of  the 
memorandum ;  and  the  account  there  given  is  proba- 
bly such  as  he  received  from  the  seller  of  the  picture, 
who,  in  order  to  raise  its  value,  boasts  how  many 
great  men  had  desired  to  have  it.  If  to  this  it  is  urged, 


202  MExMOIRS  OF 

that  it  is  too  much  to  expect  all  those  suppositions 
will  be  granted,  we  can  only  say,  let  tlie  supposition 
be  made  of  its  being  a  forgery,  and  then  see  what  in- 
surmouutable  improbal)ilities  will  immediately  present 
themselves.  After  all,  the  whole  indulgence  required 
is  for  the  mistake  respecting  Deborah  Milton's  death ; 
and  we  may  add,  that  the  great  object  of  inquiry,  that 
it  is  an  original  picture  of  Milton  by  Cooper,  is  no 
Avay  aifected  either  by  this  or  any  other  mistake  that 
may  be  imputed  to  the  writer  of  the  memorandum." 

In  this  year  the  portrait  of  Sir  Joshua,  which  was 
painted  for,  and  afterwards  in  the  possession  of,  Mr. 
Alderman  Boydell,  was  executed  by  Mr.  C.  G. 
Stuart,  an  American,  and  for  a  time  was  placed  in 
the  Shakspeare  Gallery :  this  is  one  of  many  which 
have  been  done,  but  it  has  not  been  engraved. 

The  year  1785  was  marked  by  several  compliments 
to  Sir  Joshua's  taste  and  genius. 

Miss  Hannah  JMore,  in  her  Poem  on  Sensibility, 
says, 

«'  To  snatch  bright  beauty  from  devouring  fate, 
And  bid  it  boast  with  him  a  deathless  date; 
To  shew  how  genius  fires,  how  taste  restrains, 
While  what  both  are,  his  pencil  best  explains, 
Have  we  not  Reynolds  ?" 

To  the  merit  of  one  of  Sir  Joshua's  finest  pictures 
produced  this  year,  and  exhibited,  "  Love  unloosing 
the  Zone  of  Beauty,"  the  following  poetic  tribute  was 
also  paid. 

"  Fann'd  by  the  summer's  gentlest  wind, 
Within  the  shade  a  nymph  reclin'd. 
As  on  her  neck  they  artless  stray'd. 
The  zephyrs  with  her  tresses  play'd; 
A  careless  vest  around  her  thrown 
Was  girded  with  an  azure  zone; 
Her  figure  shone  replete  with  grace — 
She  seem'd — the  goddess  of  the  place. 
The  soothing  murmur  of  the  rill, 
The  plumed  warbler's  tenderest  trill, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  263 

The  perfum'd  air,  the  flow'ry  ground, 
Spread  a  delicious  languor  round  j 
Her  swelling  breast  new  tremors  move, 
And  all  her  melting  soul  was  love. 
When  Cupid  saw  her  soft  alarms, 
And  flew,  insidious,  to  her  arms ; 
The  little  god  she  warmly  prest, 
And  ruin,  in  his  form,  carest ; 
For  by  indulgence  hardy  grown, 
He  slily  loos'd  her  guardian  zone. 
But  Virtue  saw  the  sleight,  and  sigh'd — 

*  Beware,  beware,  fond  nymph!'  she  cry'd; 
'  Behold  where  yonder  thorny  flow'r, 

'  Smiling  in  summer's  radiant  hour, 
'  With  outstretch 'd  wing  a  painted  fly, 
'  In  thoughtless  pleasure  flutters  nigh, 

*  Nor,  heedless,  sees,  beneath  the  brake, 
'  The  jaws  of  a  devouring  snake.' 

The  nymph  look'd  up — with  conscience  fiush'd, 

And  as  she  tied  her  zone,  she  blush'd. 

It  chanc'd  that  Genius,  passing  by. 

Remark 'd  the  scene  with  eager  eye : 

Then,  with  the  tint  from  Virtue  stole, 

With  Reynolds'  pencil  sketch'd  the  whole." 

Itt  the  autumn  of  this  year,  the  great  and  long  ex- 
pected sale  of  pictures,  collected  from  the  dissolved 
monasteries  and  religious  houses  in  Flanders  and 
Germany  commenced  on  the  twelfth  of  September,  and 
continued  during  the  ensuing  month. 

A  trip  to  Flanders,  therefore,  became  quite  fashion- 
able  amongst  the  lovers  of  the  fine  arts,  who  were  all 
anxious  to  possess  some  of  the  exquisite  specimens  of 
the  great  Flemish  masters.  For  this  purpose  Sir 
Joshua  also  made  a  tour  to  that  country,  and  laid  out 
upwards  of  one  thousand  pounds  in  purchases,  many 
of  which  were  of  great  value,  and  which  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  notice  further  in  a  subsequent  part  of  the 
Memoir. 

In  the  Exhibition  of  1786,  Sir  Joshua  did  not  pro- 
duce any  historical  piece,  nor  even  any  composition  of 
fancy,  his  time  and  thoughts  being  occupied  on  a 
great  work,  having  had  the  honour  of  a  commission 
from  the  Empress  of  Russia  to  paint  an  historical 


264)  MEiMOIRS  OF 

picture,  in  which  he  was  at  liberty  as  to  subject,  size, 
and  price. 

He  debated  long  with  himself  on  what  subject  to 
fix,  which  might  be  complimentary  to  the  Empress  ; 
and  at  first  1  heard  him  say  he  would  paint  the  pro- 
cession of  our  great  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  she  visit- 
ed her  camp  at  Tilbury,  in  the  time  of  the  threatened 
Spanish  invasion ;  but  at  last  he  made  choice  of  the 
infant  Hercules  overcoming  the  serpents  when  in  his 
cradle,  as  the  most  fit,  in  allusion  to  the  great  diflB- 
culties  which  the  Empress  of  Russia  had  to  encounter 
in  the  civilization  of  her  empire,  arising  from  the  rude 
state  in  which  she  found  it.  This  picture  he  finished. 
It  was  a  large  and  grand  composition ;  and  in  respect 
to  beauty,  colour,  and  effect,  was  equal  to  any  picture 
known  in  the  world.  The  middle  groupe,  which  re- 
ceived the  principal  light,  was  exquisite  in  the  highest 
degree. 

The  following  lines  on  this  picture  are  an  extract 
from  a  Piudarick  Ode,  by  John  Taylor,  Esq.  a  man 
whose  benevolence  of  heart,  in  addition  to  his  genius, 
renders  him  valuable  to  those  who  have  the  advantage 
of  knowing  him. 

Reynolds,  thy  pencil  fix'd  my  wand'ring  view, 
Supreme  in  genius — worthy  all  thy  fame; 

Thy  magic  touch  to  taste  and  nature  true, 
Secures  for  immortality  a  name. 

Aye — here's  tlie  vig'rous  son  of  am'rous  Jove, 
Fruit  of  sly  transports  with  Amphytrion's  wife, 

Whose  cradled  strength  with  twining  monsters  strove, 
And  crush'd  out,  giant-like,  the  venom'd  life. 

Ah !  Reynolds,  why  should  portrait  thee  confine, 
Whose  stroke  can  epic  force  at  once  impart, 

Whose  canvas  with  Homeric  fire  can  shine 
And  blaze  with  all  the  true  sublime  of  art. 

I  have  undersood  that  Sir  Joshua  told  a  friend  that 
the  attitude  and  expression  of  the  Prophet  Tiresias, 
introduced  in  the  groupe,  were  taken  from  those  in 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  265 

which  he  had  occasionally  seen  his  deceased  friend 
Johnson.  It  may  be  so,  for  his  eye  and  mind  were 
always  intent  to  seize  and  fix  the  passing  truth;  and 
perhaps  the  truest  criticism  that  ever  Dr.  Beattie 
hazarded  on  Sir  Joshua's  works  was  with  regard  to 
this  very  picture,  when  he  said,  in  a  letter  to  Sir 
William  Forbes,  "  Your  account  of  Sir  Joshua's  new 
picture  is  very  entertaining.  It  is  an  unpromising 
subject;  but  Sir  Joshua's  imagination  will  supply 
every  thing." 

When  it  was  finished,  and  had  been  exhibited  at 
Somerset  House,  it  was  sent  to  Russia  to  the  Em- 
press. 

Whether  this  compliment  was  ever  explained  to 
her,  or  whether  she  was  left  to  suppose  it  alluded  to 
the  fate  of  her  husband,  I  do  not  know;  however, 
soon  after  the  picture  arrived  at  St.  Petersburg, 
Count  Woronzow,  the  Russian  Embassador  at  the 
court  of  England,  waited  on  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  to 
inform  him  that  the  picture  he  painted  last  year  for 
the  Empress  of  Russia  had  been  received  at  St. 
Petersburg,  with  two  sets  of  his  Discourses,  one  in 
English,  and  the  other  in  French,  which,  at  the  desire 
of  her  Imperial  Majesty,  had  been  sent  with  the  pic- 
ture. 

At  the  same  time.  Count  Woronzow  delivered  to 
Sir  Joshua  a  gold  box,  enriched  with  the  Empress's 
portrait,  and  very  large  diamonds,  &c.  containing  a 
most  gracious  writing  by  her  Imperial  Majesty's  own 
hand.  The  Embassador  left  also  with  Sir  Joshua 
a  copy  of  the  following  letter,  which  his  Excellency 
had  received  from  the  Empress  with  the  said  present : 

"  Monsieur  Le  Comte  Woronzow, 

"  I  have  read,  and,  I  may  say,  with  the  greatest 
avidity,  those  Discourses  pronounced  at  the  Royal 
Academy  of  London,  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  which 
that  illustrious  artist  sent  me  with  his  large  picture  ; 
in  both  productions  one  may  easily  trace  a  most  ele- 
vated genius. 


206  MEMOIRS  OF 

''  I  recommeiul  to  you  to  give  my  thanks  to  Sir 
Joshua,  and  to  remit  him  the  box  I  send,  as  a  testi- 
mony of  the  great  satisfaction  the  perusal  of  his  Dis- 
courses has  given  me,  and  which  1  look  upon  as,  per- 
haps, the  best  work  that  ever  was  wrote  on  the  sub- 

"  My  portrait,  wliich  is  on  the  cover  of  the  box,  is 
of  a  composition  made  at  my  Hermitage,  where  they 
are  now  at  work  about  impressions  on  the  stones 
found  there. 

'^  1  expect  you  will  inform  me  of  the  price  of  the 
large  picture,  on  the  subject  of  which  I  have  already 
spoke  to  you  in  another  letter. 

"  Adieu — I  wish  you  well. 

(Signed)     "  Catharine." 
St,  Peter shurghj  March  5,  1790. 

The  portrait  mentioned  in  the  imperial  letter,  was 
a  basso  relievo  of  her  Majesty':  and  Sir  Joshua's 
executors  afterwards  received  fifteen  hundred  guineas 
for  the  painting,  which  is  now  at  St.  Petersburgh. 
An  engraving  in  mezzotinto  was  taken  from  it  before 
it  left  England;  and  another  print  from  it  was  done  in 
Russia,  by  an  English  artist,  patronized  by  that  court. 

I  have  already  noticed  the  verifying  of  the  authen- 
ticity of  Milton's  picture  by  Sir  Joshua,  to  which  I 
may  add  a  discovery  nearly  similar,  which  has  been 
stated  by  an  anonymous  writer,  who  says,  tliat  in  this 
year  he  was  so  fortunate  as  also  to  meet  with  a 
valuable  head  of  Oliver  Cromwell  which  had  long 
remained  concealed  from  the  prying  eye  of  antiquarian 
research  in  the  false  bottom  of  a  gold  snuif-box;  and 
which  was  ascertained  to  be  the  original  head  painted 
by  Cooper,  for  the  use  of  Simons  the  sculptor,  who 
was  then  engaged  in  modelling  a  resemblance  of  the 
Protector.  It  was  particularly  valuable  in  being  the 
only  picture  which  Cooper  finished  of  the  Protector 
Oliver;  for  though  the  artist  had  prevailed  upon 
Cromwell  to  sit  a  second  time,  yet,  some  diifference  or 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  2Q7 

dispute  having  taken  place,  this  latter  was  never  com- 
pleted, but  is  in  that  state  now,  in  the  possession  of 
Sir  Thomas  Frankland,  a  descendant  from  that  ex- 
traordinary man. 

It  was  said  that  the  picture  had  been  shewn  to  his 
Majesty;  and  upon  that  occasion  it  was  smartly  ob- 
served, "  How  much  would  Charles  tlie  First  have 
valued  that  man  who  had  brought  him  the  head  of 
Cromwell?" 

In  his  thirteenth  discourse,  delivered  this  year,  Sir 
Joshua's  object  was  to  shew,  in  illustration  and  ex- 
planation of  his  theory  of  genius,  that  art  is  not  mere- 
ly imitation,  but  must  be  considered  as  under  the 
direction  of  the  imagination  ;  after  which  he  pointed 
out  how  far,  and  in  what  manner,  painting,  poetry, 
acting,  even  architecture  and  gardening,  depart,  or 
differ,  from  nature. 

Here  he  laid  down  what  he  esteemed  as  the  high- 
est style  of  criticism,  and,  at  tlie  same  time,  the 
soundest,  in  referring  solely  to  the  eternal  and  immu- 
table nature  of  things  ;  and  this  was,  that  any  specific 
art,  together  with  its  principles,  should  be  considered 
in  their  correspondence  with  the  principles  of  other 
arts,  or  at  least  of  such  as  address  themselves  primari- 
ly and  principally  to  the  imagination.  ''  When  those 
connected  and  kindred  principles,''  said  he,  "  are 
brought  together  to  be  compared,  another  comparison 
will  grow  out  of  this;  that  is,  the  comparison  of  them 
all  with  those  of  human  nature,  from  wlience  arts 
derive  the  materials  upon  which  they  are  to  produce 
their  effects.  When  this  comparison  of  art  with  art, 
and  of  all  arts  with  the  nature  of  man,  is  once  made 
with  success,  our  guiding  lines  are  as  well  ascertained 
and  establislied  as  they  can  be  in  matters  of  this 
description." 

Some  other  truths,  inculcated  in  this  discourse,  are 
of  such  high  importance  in  general  life  that  I  trust  I 
shall  be  excused  for  giving  a  sketch  of  them ;  whilst, 
at  the  same  time,  they  will  display  that  deep  thouglit 
which  places  Sir  Joshua  on  a  level,  as  a  moralist, 

N  n 


'^m  MEMOIRS  OF 

with  tlie  greatest  philosophers;  truths,  too,  uot  con- 
ceived ill  the  silence  of  the  closet,  but  extracted  from 
human  nature  itself,  in  its  various  modilitations,  as 
they  passed  under  his  eye,  or  presented  themselves  in 
his  daily  intercourse  with  the  ornaments  of  society. 

lie  particularly  noticed,  that  there  is,  in  the  com- 
merce of  life,  as  in  art,  a  sagacity  which  is  far  from 
being  contrary  to  right  reason,  and  is  superior  to  any 
occasional  exercise  of  that  faculty,  which  supersedes 
it,  and  does  not  wait  for  tlie  slow  progress  of  deduc- 
tion, but  goes  at  once,  by  what  appears  a  kind  of 
intuition,  to  the  conclusion.  A  man,  said  he,  endowed 
with  this  faculty,  feels  and  acknowledges  the  truth, 
though  it  is  not  always  in  his  power,  perhaps,  to  give 
a  reason  for  it:  because  he  cannot  recollect,  and  bring 
before  him,  all  the  materials  that  gave  birth  to  his 
opinion ;  for  very  many,  and  very  intricate  considera- 
tions may  unite  to  form  the  principle,  even  of  small 
and  minute  parts,  involved  in,  or  dependent  on,  a 
great  system  of  things:  though  these,  in  process  of 
time,  are  forgotten,  the  right  impression  still  remains 
on  the  mind. 

This  impression,  then,  collected,  we  do  not  always 
know  how,  or  when,  he  considered  as  the  result  of  the 
accumulated  experience  of  our  life  ;  and,  therefore, 
this  mass  of  collective  observation,  however  ac- 
quired, ought  to  prevail  over  that  reason  which, 
however  powerfully  exerted  on  any  particular  oc- 
casion, will  probably  comprehend  but  a  partial  xiavr 
of  the  subject.  He,  therefore,  laid  it  down  as  a  prin- 
ciple, that  our  conduct  in  life,  as  well  as  in  the  arts, 
is,  or  ought  to  be,  generally  governed  by  this  habitual 
reason.  It  is  our  happiness,  he  added,  that  we  are 
enabled  to  draw  on  such  funds;  if  we  were  obliged  to 
enter  into  a  theoretical  deliberation  on  every  occasion, 
before  we  act,  life  would  be  at  a  stand,  and  art  would 
be  impracticable. 

Speaking  of  "  Imitation,"  he  said  that  it  is  the 
lowest  htyle  only  of  arts,  whether  of  painting,  poetry, 
or  music,  that  may  be  said,  in  the  vulgar  sensep  to  be 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  269 

naturally  pleasing.  "  The  higher  eflForts  of  those  arts, 
we  know  by  experience,  do  not  ait'ect  minds  wholly 
uncultivated.  This  refined  taste  is  the  consequence  of 
education  and  habit;  we  are  born  only  with  a  capaci- 
ty of  entertaining  this  refinement,  as  we  are  born  with 
a  disposition  to  receive  and  obey  all  the  rules  and  reg- 
ulations of  society ;  and  so  far  it  may  be  said  to  be 
natural  to  us,  and  no  further." 

His  reasonings  on  the  propriety  of  acting,  and  on 
the  pleasures  derived  from  it,  are  highly  worthy  tlie 
attention  both  of  performers  and  audience ;  but  they 
are  too  long  even  to  give  a  slight  sketch  of  them  in 
this  place:  I  shall  therefore  merely  add  his  own  con- 
clusion to  this  discourse;  when  he  says,  th^at  '^  it  is 
allowed  on  all  hands,  that  facts  and  events,  however 
they  may  bind  the  Historian,  have  no  dominion  over 
the  Poet  or  the  Painter.  With  us.  History  is  made  to 
bend  and  conform  to  this  great  idea  of  art.  And  why? 
Because  these  arts,  in  their  highest  province,  arc  not 
addressed  to  the  gross  senses  ;  but  to  the  desires  of  the 
mind,  to  that  spark  of  divinity  which  we  have  within, 
impatient  of  being  circumscribed  and  pent  up  by  the 
world  about  us.  Just  so  much  as  our  art  has  of  this, 
just  so  much  of  dignity,  I  had  almost  said  of  divinity, 
it  exhibits ;  and  those  of  our  artists  who  possessed  this 
mark  of  distinction  in  the  highest  degree,  acquired 
from  thence  the  glorious  appellation  of  ])ivine  P^ 

When  Alderman  Boydell  projected  the  scheme  of 
his  magnificent  edition  of  the  plays  of  Shakspeare,  ac- 
companied with  large  prints  from  pictures  to  be  exe< 
cuted  by  English  painters,  it  was  deemed  to  be  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  something  of  Sir  Joshua's  paint- 
ing sliould  be  procured  to  grace  the  collection ;  but,  un- 
expectedly Sir  Joshua  appeared  to  be  rather  shy  in  the 
business,  as  if  he  thought  it  degrading  himself  to  paint 
for  a  print-seller,  and  he  would  not  at  first  consent  to 
be  employed  in  the  work.  George  Stevens,  the  Editor 
of  Shakspeare,  now  undertook  to  persuade  him  to 
comply,  and  taking  a  bank  bill  of  five  hundred  pounds 
in  his  hand^  he  had  an  intervievr  with  Sir  Joshua, 


^70  MEMOIRS  OF 

■when  using  all  his  eloquence  in  argument,  he  in  the 
mean  time  slipt  the  bank,  bill  into  his  hand;  he  then 
soon  found  that  his  mode  of  reasoning  was  not  to  be 
resisted,  and  a  picture  was  promised. 

8ir  Joshua  now  commenced  his  studies,  and  no  less 
than  three  paintings  were  exhibited  at  the  Shakspeare 
Gallery,  or  at  least  taken  from  that  poet,  the  only 
ones,  as  has  been  very  correctly  said,  which  Sir 
Joshua  ever  executed  for  his  illustration,  with  the 
exception  of  a  head  of  King  Lear,  (done  indeed  in 
478r3)  and  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Marchioness 
of  Thomond,  and  a  portrait  of  the  Honourable  Mrs. 
Tollemache  in  the  character  of  Miranda,  in  the 
"  Tempest,''  in  which  Prosjjero  and  Caliban  are  in- 
troduced. 

One  of  these  paintings  for  the  Gallery  was  Puck, 
or  Robin  Goodfellow,  as  it  has  been  called,  which  in 
point  of  expression  and  animation  is  unparalleled  and 
one  of  the  happiest  efforts  of  Sir  Joshua's  pencil, 
though  it  has  been  said,  by  some  cold  critics,  not  to 
"be  perfectly  characteristic  of  the  merry  wanderer  of 
Shakspeare.  It  is  now  the  property  of  Samuel 
Rogers,  Esq.  Macbeth,  with  the  Witches  and  the 
Cauldron,  was  another,  and  for  this  Mr.  Boydell  paid 
him  one  thousand  guineas;  but  who  is  now  the  pos- 
sessor of  it  I  know  not. 

The  third  was  Cardinal  Beaufort,  for  which  500 
guineas  were  paid ;  now  tlie  property  of  the  Earl  of 
Egremont.  Of  this  latter  picture  an  artist  of  great 
genius  always  declared  that  it  united  the  local  colour- 
ing of  Titian  with  the  Chiaro  scuro  of  Rembrandt : 
this  is  a  just  criticism  ;  and  another  critic  has  observed 
^^  this  picture  of  the  dying  Beaufort  is  truly  an  im- 
pressive performance;  the  general  hue  of  the  picture 
is  consonant  to  Shakspeare's  awful  scene — sober — 
grand — solemn. — The  excruciating  agony  of  guilt 
and  fear  that  writhes  each  limb,  and  fastens  his  con- 
vulsive fingers  on  the  bed  clothes,  makes  each  spec- 
tator shudder — and  the  face  of  the  dying  Cardinal 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  §71 

has   that  agonized   and   horrid   grin   described  by 
the  poet. 

"  See  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  make  him  grin.*' 

This  last  is  common  newspaper  criticism  of  which 
much  was  poured  forth  at  the  time ;  for  this  picture 
when  exhibited  excited  great  attention,  and  gave  rise 
to  much  critical  controversy :  and  with  respect  to  the 
demon  at  the  pillow  of  the  dying  Cardinal,  there  have 
been  many  objections  made;  nay  Sir  Joshua  was 
most  earnestly  importuned  to  erase  it,  but  knew  better 
than  to  comply.  These  objections  require  to  be  corn- 
batted  in  vindication  of  the  illustrious  author  of  the 
work,  as  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  do  it  for  himself, 
although  he  could  have  so  amply  refuted  them. 

It  must  be  allowed  that  the  lirst  business  of  an  his- 
torical painter  is  to  make  his  picture  tell  its  story  dis- 
tinctly, clearly,  and  quickly;  or  else  he  can  claim  but 
little  merit  to  himself  above  that  which  belongs  to  the 
mechanical  part,  the  mere  operation  of  his  hand. 

The  peculiar  and  characteristic  essence  of  this  sub- 
ject, the  death  of  the  wicked  Cardinal  Beaufort,  is  that 
the  dying  man's  agonies  do  not  proceed  from  bodily 
pain,  so  much  as  from  the  horrors  of  a  guilty  con- 
science. Tills  is  a  distinction  in  expression,  of  so  nice 
.  a  kind  in  respect  to  its  being  pourtrayed,  that  perhaps 
Raffaelle  himself  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  exe- 
cute it :  yet  this  important  article  of  information  must 
of  necessity  be  decidedly  and  distinctly  pronounced, 
or  the  subject  is  not  explained.  Even  Shakspeare 
himself  in  his  text  has  thought  it  requisite  to  employ 
Ins  imagery  in  order  to  make  his  intentions  more  sure- 
ly to  be  understood,  by  making  the  King  say, 

"  Oh  thou  eternal  mover  of  the  Heavens, 
Look  with  a  gentle  Eye  upon  this  wretch  ! 
Oh  heat  axvay  the  busy  meddlinj^  ji^nd 
That  lays  strong  siege  unto  this  wretch'' s  souly 
And  from  his  bosom  purge  this  black  despair." 


272  MExMOIRS  OF 

How  much  more  necessary  then  is  it  to  the  painter, 
whose  powers  in  this  respect  are  so  much  more  limited 
by  not  being  able  to  explaiu  those  circumstances 
which  are  past  ? 

However,  we  have  a  right  to  conclude  that  Sir 
Joshua  was  doubtful  of  the  power  in  himself,  and 
perhaps  of  the  power  in  the  art  also,  to  compass  the 
difficulty  of  explicitly  and  distinctly  giving  the  just 
and  clear  expression  of  guilt,  in  contradistinction  to 
bodily  pain :  which  was  absolutely  necessary  to  ex- 
plaiu the  story ;  an  explanation  which,  if  not  quickly 
given,  is  not  well  given,  for  the  essence  of  painting  is 
to  produce  and  efl'ect  an  instantaneous  impression  on 
the  spectator :  the  introduction  of  the  demon  therefore 
does  this,  and  leads  the  mind  to  further  inquiry,  and 
to  investigate  the  more  hidden  excellencies  of  the 
w  ork,  and  prevents  the  possibility  even  for  a  moment, 
of  mistaking  it  for  the  representation  of  a  man  dying 
in  a  mere  painful  bodily  disease. 

The  late  Mr.  Opie  in  his  lectures  has  touched  upon 
this  same  subject,  and  it  is  with  much  gratification  that 
I  give  the  opinion  of  tiiis  most  able  critic,  as  it  is  so 
consistent  with  my  own. 

"  The  varied  heauties  of  this  work,  he  says,  might 
well  employ  a  great  part  of  a  lecture,  but,  at  present, 
1  shall  pass  them  over,  and  attend  only  to  what  relates 
immediately  to  the  question  before  us,  the  elfect  of  the 
visionary  devil,  couched  close,  and  listening  eagerly 
behind  the  pillow  of  the  dying  wretch  ;  which  not 
only  invigorates  and  clothes  the  subject  in  its  appro- 
priate interest  and  terror,  but  immediately  clears  up 
all  ambiguity,  by  informing  us  that  those  are  not 
bodily  suiferings  which  we  behold  so  forcibly  de- 
lineated ;  that  they  are  not  merely  the  pangs  of  death 
which  make  him  grin;  but  that  his  agony  proceeds 
from  those  dangers  of  the  mind,  the  overwhelming 
horrors  of  a  guilty  and  awakened  conscience.  This 
was  the  point,  on  which  rested  the  whole  moral  effect 
of  the  piece;  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  be  under- 
stood, and  could  by  no  other  means  have  been  so 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  g-^S 

strongly  and  perspicuously  expressed.  An  expe- 
dient, therefore,  at  once  necessary,  so  consistent 
with  the  spirit  of  the  subject,  and  so  completely  suc- 
cessful, far  from  being  regarded  as  an  unwarrantable 
license,  is  justifiable  by  all  rules  of  sound  criticism, 
and  ought  to  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  signal 
examples  of  invention  in  the  artist. 

Whoever  paints  to  the  mind  will  eventually  suc- 
ceed ;  and  no  one  must  be  discouraged  in  the  pur- 
suit, because  he  meets  with  contradictory  opinions  as 
to  the  first  and  most  alluring  objects  in  his  picture;  as 
most  persons,  especially  the  uneducated,  see  different- 
ly :  and  to  obey  the  capricious  and  unsettled  humours 
of  each,  would  be  to  sacrifice  every  thing  that  is  just 
and  noble  in  the  art.  An  artist  should  calmly  hear 
the  opinions  of  all ;  but  reserve  it  for  the  adoption  of 
Lis  future  thought,  how  far  he  will  or  will  not  alter 
his  design; — and  he  can  scarcely  hesitate  too  much, 
as  the  first  thoughts  are,  generally  spealdng,  more 
vigorous  than  those  conceived  and  born  after  the 
imagination  and  this  judgment  has  been  forced  into 
action,  and  generated  in  obedience  to  the  wishes  of  a 
cold  observer. 

It  was  proposed  that  Sir  Joshua  should  also  have 
executed  the  closet  scene  in  Hamlet ;  but  I  believe  it 
was  never  even  begun. 

I  know  it  was  not  his  desire  to  paint  any  circum- 
stance in  history  of  a  complicated  nature,  his  expres- 
sion to  me  on  that  subject  was,  "  That  it  cost  him  too 
dear.''  His  great  pleasure  was  in  those  works  of 
fancy  in  which  might  be  shown  beauty,  expression  of 
character,  in  a  single  figure,  or  at  most  not  more  than 
two,  and  in  those  when  of  his  own  choice,  he  was 
unrivalled  by  either  ancient  or  modern  artists. 

How  far  it  had  ever  been  Sir  Joshua's  intention  to 
paint  out  a  scene  of  tiie  play  of  Hamlet,  I  do  not 
know,  but  I  remember  just  about  that  time,  he  repeat- 
ed to  me  an  observation  of  a  great  man  on  tiiat  very 


274  MEMOIRS  OF 

The  illusUious  Charles  Fox.  conversing  once  with 
Sir  Joshua  lleynolds  on  the  merits  and  demerits  of 
Sliakspeare,  said  it  was  his  opinion  that  Shakspeare's 
credit  w,ould  have  stood  higher  if  he  iiad  never  written 
the  play  of  Hamlet. 

This  anecdote  was  told  me  by  Sir  Josaiia  himself. 

I  must  confess  that  my  own  opinion  differs  very 
much  from  this  high  authority.  It  seems  to  me  that 
if  there  is  one  play  of  Shakspeare's  whicii  denotes 
genius  above  the  others,  it  is  that  of  Hamlet. 

Such  an  infinite  and  subtile  discrimination  of  char- 
acter, such  feeling  is  displayed  in  it;  it  is  rendered  so 
exquisitely  interesting,  yet  without  the  lielp  of  a  regu- 
lar plot,  almost  without  a  plan ;  so  like  in  its  simplici- 
city  to  the  progress  of  nature  itself,  that  it  appears  to 
be  an  entire  effusion  of  pure  genius  alone. 

Besides  those  historical  scenes  from  Shakspearc 
which  Sir  Joshua  executed  for  that  truest  and  greatest 
encourager  of  English  Art,  that  England  ever  saw, 
tlie  late  Alderman  Boydell,  that  gentleman,  who 
reverenced  merit  of  every  kind  wherever  he  found  it, 
also  employed  Sir  .Toshua's  pencil,  as  the  greatest 
painter,  to  pourtray  for  him  the  greatest  hero  of  his 
day,  the  late  Lord  Heathiield,  of  Gibraltar;  and  this 
exquisite  portrait,  when  finished,  was  exhibited  in  his 
gallery  in  Pall  Mall.  I  cannot  refrain  recording  a 
little  anecdote  as  related  by  the  general,  at  the  time 
the  painter  was  employed  on  the  picture,  whom  he 
frequently  diverted  by  some  curious  narrative,  or 
amused  by  some  droll  anecdotes  ;  one  in  partic- 
ular, of  a  very  rich  Jew  who  resided  in  Prussia  at 
the  time  of  Frederick  the  Great,  and  was  in  high 
favour  with  his  Majesty,  and  a  very  useful  person  to 
him.  Certain  apprehensions  arising,  however,  in  the 
Jew's  mind,  that  a  very  wealthy  subject  was  not  in 
the  most  safe  situation,  while  under  an  arbitrary 
Sovereign,  he  resolved  within  himself  to  get  out  of 
the  Prussian  dominions,  together  with  his  property,  as 
soon  as  he  could  accomplish  it.  But  this  he  saw  was 
not  possible  to  be  done  till  he  had  procured  the  King's 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  375 

consent*  He  therefore  in  the  humblest  anil  most 
cunning  manner  wrote  to  Frederick  to  obtain  his  per- 
mission, alledging  that  both  his  health  and  affairs 
required  his  departure.  But  the  more  crafty  King, 
who  probably  saw  through  his  design,  returned  this 
short  but  affectionate  answer, 

"  My  Dear  Mordecai, 

"  Nothing  but  death  shall  part  us. 

"  Frederick.^' 

The  good  offices  of  Sir  Joshua  through  life  were 
not  confined  to  his  intimate  friends,  but  were  often  ex- 
tended, parlicularly  to  professional  men ;  one  of  whom 
in  a  great  measure  owed  his  success  in  the  art  to  his 
advice,  and  to  his  recommendation  of  him,  in  this 
year,  to  the  late  Duke  of  Rutland,  then  setting  out  on 
his  appointment  to  the  Vice. Royalty  of  Ireland. 

The  person  I  allude  to  was  a  Mr.  Pack,  a  native 
of  Norwich,  and  who,  from  a  fondness  for  the  art,  had 
copied  many  of  Sir  Joshua's  paintings  with  great 
accuracy,  having  been  strongly  recommended  to  him 
by  a  friend.  Some  time  after  this,  Mr.  Pack,  who 
was  a  mercantile  man,  suffered  considerably  by  his 
American  connections,  and  found  it  expedient  to  seek 
for  support  from  that  which  he  had  practised  before 
only  as  an  amusement;  and  he  was  so  successful  in 
liis  Irish  trip  as  to  be  tempted  to  risk  his  fate  in 
London,  where  he  afterwards  practised  with  some 
little  degree  of  fame. 

This  liberality  of  conduct,  indeed,  Sir  Joshua 
practised  frequently;  and  always  candidly  bestowed 
praise  on  his  contemporaries,  where  due. 

Of  Gainsborough,  he  said,  that  he  could  copy  Van- 
dyke so  exquisitely,  that  at  a  certain  distance  he  could, 
not  distinguish  the  copy  from  the  original,  or  the 
difference  between  them. 

His  manner  he  considered  as  peculiarly  his  own, 
and  as  one  producing  great  effect  and  force  j  and  one 

o  0 


;270  MEMOIRS  OF 

flay  whilst  examining  a  picture  of  his  with  consider- 
ahle  attention,  he  at  U'ngth  exclaimed,  *•  I  cannot 
make  out  how  he  produces  his  efiect!" 

Sir  Joshua,  at  the  solicitation  of  Gainshorough,  sat 
one  morning  to  ijim  for  iiis  portrait,  hut  being  taken 
ill  soon  after  this  first  sitting,  he  was  obliged  to  go  to 
Bath  for  the  recovery  of  his  health,  and,  at  his  return, 
sent  to  Gainsborough  to  inform  him,  that  he  was 
ready  to  attend  at  any  time  he  would  appoint,  in  oriler 
to  have  the  picture  finished ;  but  Gainsborough  never 
resumed  the  work,  and  therefore  it  was  never  com- 
pleted:  why  he  declined  it  is  not  known;  probably 
because  Sir  Joshua  had  made  no  offer  to  return  the 
compliment  by  engaging  to  paint  the  portrait  of  Gains- 
borough. But  Sir  Joshua  never  had  such  an  inten- 
tion, which  1  heard  him  declare. 

No  further  intercourse  took  place  between  these 
two  artists  until  Gainsborough  was  on  his  death-bed, 
when  his  better  feelings  overcame  his  capriciousness, 
and  he  sent  for  Sir  Joshua  to  thank  him  for  the  lib- 
eral manner  in  which  he  had  always  spoken  of  him 
in  public  and  in  private  conversation. 

Sir  Joshua,  indeed,  had  jjroved  his  opinion  of  his 
talents,  by  paying  one  hundred  guineas  for  his  well 
known  picture  of  the  "  Girl  attending  Pigs.^' 

Nothing  can  be  more  strongly  expressive  of  Gains- 
borough's acknowledged  goodness  of  heart,  and  of  his 
ardent  love  for  the  profession,  than  the  exclama- 
tion uttered  whilst  expiring — "  We  are  all  going  to 
Heaven,  and  Vandyke  is  of  the  party!'' 

He  was  interred,  on  the  9th  of  August,  in  Kew 
Church-yard,  with  his  name  alone  cut  on  his  tomb- 
stone ;  Sir  Joshua  being  one  of  the  pall-bearers,  to- 
gether with  Sir  William  Chambers,  Mr.  West  the 
present  President,  Mr.  Meyers,  and  Messrs.  T. 
Cotes,  Sandby,  and  Bartolozzi.  The  ceremony  was 
also  attended  by  several  other  gentlemen  eminent  for 
abilities,  particularly  Mr.  Sheridan,  &c. 

On  pronouncing  this  eulogium,  which  took  place 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


srr 


this  year  at  the  usual  delivery  of  the  Discourse,  Sir 
Joshua's  praises  were  just,  instructive,  and  eloquent. 
The  purport  ofthewliolc  discourse,  indeed,  turned 
upou  Grainsborough's  character,  together  with  his  ex- 
cellencies and  defects ;  aud  amongst  otlier  reasons  for 
adopting  this  subject,  he  observed,  that  when  we 
draw  our  examples  from  remote  and  revered  antiquity, 
with  some  advantage  undoubtedly  in  the  selection,  we 
expose  ourselves  to  some  inconvenieucies,  being,  per- 
haps, led  away  too  much  by  great  names,  and  Loo 
much  subdued  by  overbearing  authority.  lie  con- 
sidered it,  therefore,  to  be  sometimes  of  service,  tiiat 
our  examples  should  be  near  us;  and  be  such  as  raise 
a  reverence  sufficient  to  induce  us  carefully  to  observe 
them,  yet  not  so  great  as  to  prevent  us  from  engaging 
with  them  in  something  like  a  generous  contention. 

With  great  justness  Sir  Joshua  declared  his 
opinion,  that  if  ever  this  nation  should  produce  geniu?. 
sufficient  to  acquire  for  us  the  honorable  distinction  of 
an  English  School,  then  the  name  of  Gainsborough 
will  be  transmitted  to  posterity,  in  the  liistory  of  tlie 
art,  among  the  very  first  of  that  rising  name  :  and 
after  shewing  that  he  had  owed  much  of  his  excel- 
lence to  his  love  for  the  art,  he  expressed  himself  ot 
him  personally,  with  great  candour  in  the  following 
words  : — '^  Of  Gainsborough  we  certainly  know  that 
his  passion  was  not  the  acquirement  of  riches,  but 
excellence  in  his  art ;  and  to  enjoy  that  honorable 
fame  which  is  sure  to  attend  it. — That  he  felt  this 
ruling  jpassion  strong  in  death,  I  am  myself  a  wit- 
ness.  A  few  days  before  he  died,  he  wrote  me  a 
letter  to  express  his  acknowledgments  for  the  good 
opinion  I  entertained  of  his  abilities,  anti  the  mann-.n' 
in  which  (he  had  been  informed)  I  always  spoke  of 
him;  and  desired  he  might  see  me  once  more  before 
he  died.  I  am  aware  how  flattering  it  is  to  myself  to 
be  thus  connected  with  the  dying  testimony  which 
this  excellent  painter  bore  to  his  art.  But  I  cannot 
prevail  on  myself  to  suppress,  that  I  was  not  connecteil 
with  him,  by  any  habits  of  familiarity  :   if  any  little 


278  MEMOIRS  OF  ' 

jealousies  liad  subsisted  between  us,  they  were  for- 
gotten in  those  moments  of  sincerity ;  and  he  turned 
towards  me  as  one  who  was  engrossed  by  the  same 
pursuits,  and  who  deserved  his  good  opinion  by  being 
sensible  of  his  excellence.  Without  entering  into  a 
detail  of  what  passed  at  this  last  interview,  the  im- 
pression of  it  upon  my  mind  M'as,  that  his  regret  at 
losing  life,  was  principally  the  regret  of  leaving  his 
art;  and  more  especially  as  he  now  began,  he  said,  to 
see  what  his  deficiencies  were;  w^hich,  he  said,  he 
flattered  himself,  in  his  last  works,  were,  in  some 
measure,  supplied/' 

The  remainder  of  this  discourse,  the  fourteenth, 
was  dedicated  to  a  comparison  of  Gainsborough  with 
some  other  landscape  painters,  and  it  contains  many 
most  judicious  observations,  alike  useful  to  the  critic 
and  the  artist. 

Of  the  many  pictures  of  Sir  Joshua  himself,  by  his 
own  hand,  the  last  which  he  painted  was  executed  this 
year:  it  is  a  three  quarter  length,  with  spectacles,  rep- 
resenting him  familiarly,  as  in  common  domestic  life. 
Of  this  picture  there  are  several  duplicates :  one  in 
tlie  possession  of  the  Duke  of  Leeds ;  but  his  niece, 
the  Marchioness  of  Thomond,  possesses  the  original. 

The  well  known  satirical  and  descriptive  produc- 
tion, called  *»  Modern  Characters  from  Shakspear^," 
was  published  this  year.  The  passages,  from  the 
Wmter^s  Tale  and  Timon^  applied  to  Sir  Joshua, 
are  so  well  selected,  that  I  cannot  refuse  them  a  place 
here. 

The  first  was — "  That  rare  master,  who,  had  he 
himself  eternity,  and  could  put  breath  into  his  work, 
would  beguile  nature  of  her  custom.*' — The  second 
— "  Admirable !  how  this  grace  speaks  his  own  stand- 
ing! what  a  mental  power  this  eye  shoots  forth!  how 
big  imagination  moves  in  this  lip  !" 

I  come  now  to  a  most  unfortunate  era  in  the  life  of 
this  great  artist,  when  he  encountered  a  heavy  dis- 
pensation, the  heaviest  that  could  befal  a  professional 
maU;  the  partial  loss  of  his  sight. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


S79 


Mr.  Malone,  whose  intimacy  with  Sir  Joshua,  at 
the  time,  enabled  him  to  be  perfectly  correct  in  his 
statement,  says,  that  he  for  the  first  time  perceived 
this  failure  in  the  month  of  July,  whilst  giviug  nearly 
the  last  finishing  to  a  portrait  of  the  present  Mar- 
choiness  of  Hertford.  This,  of  course,  was  the  last 
female  portrait  which  he  ever  painted ;  for,  finding  it 
difficult  to  proceed,  he  immediately  desisted,  and  in  a 
few  months  afterwards  he  totally  lost  the  use  of  his 
left  eye,  notwithstanding  all  the  care  of  the  most 
skilful  practitioners  in  tliat  branch  of  surgery.  Amongst 
the  last  of  his  portraits  of  men,  were  those  of  Messrs. 
Windham  and  Cholmondeley,  of  Lord  Macartney, 
never  finished,  and  of  Mr.  Fox. 

I  mention  these  circumstances  particularly  in  this 
place,  because,  that  he  now  found  it  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  abstain  from  the  use  of  his  pencil,  lest  his  re- 
maining eye  should  also  be  afiected  :  a  determination 
which  cost  him  great  pain,  and  required  great  reso- 
lution to  adhere  to,  as  it  deprived  him  of  his  best  and 
dearest  source  of  enjoyment,  though  he  still  ventured 
to  read  a  little,  or  to  listen  to  others ;  nor  did  he  find 
himself  deprived  of  the  society  of  his  friends,  his  mis- 
fortune not  having  affected  his  equal  mind  so  much 
as  to  render  him  peevish  or  discontented.  Indeed, 
like  a  philosopher,  he  endeavoured  to  console  himself 
by  the  pleasures  left  him,  more  than  to  lament  the  loss 
of  those  of  which  he  was  deprived ;  and  of  these 
pleasures,  he  found  many  in  the  friendly  intercourse 
of  the  Literary  Club,  which,  however,  was,  in  some 
measure,  interrupted  by  the  politics  of  that  period,  if 
we  are  to  judge  from  a  letter  of  Sir  William  Jones  to 
Sir  Joseph  Banks,  written  in  the  latter  end  of  this  very 
year :  "  I  wish  politics  at  the  devil,  but  hope,  that 
when  the  King  recovered.  Science  revived.  It  gives 
me  great  pain  to  know,  that  party,  as  it  is  called,  (I 
call  \i  faction,  because  I  hold  party  to  l)e  grounded  on 
principles,  and  faction  on  self-interest.)  has  found  its 
way  into  a  Literary  Club,  who  meet  reciprocally  to 
impart,  and  receive  new  ideas.    I  have  deep-rooted 


280  MEMOIRS  OF 

political  pviuciples,  which  the  law  taught  me ;  but  I 
should  never  thiuk  of  iatroducinji;  them  among  men  of 
science,  and  if,  on  my  return  to  Europe,  ten  or  twelve 
years  hence,  I  should  not  iind  more  science  than 
politics  in  the  club,  my  seat  in  it  will  be  at  the  ser- 
vice of  any  politician  who  may  wish  to  be  one  of  the 
party.'^ 

Sir  William  Jones,  however,  did  not  live  to  return ; 
nor  did  Sir  Joshua,  indeed,  mingle  in  those  debates 
to  which  he  alludes,  but  preserved  the  same  friendly 
tenor  of  conduct  and  suavity  of  manners  to  his  asso- 
ciates  there,  that  he  exercised  towards  all  men  in 
private  life ;  for  politics  never  amused  him  or  ever 
employed  his  thoughts  a  moment. 

That  kindness  of  manner  and  readiness  to  oblige 
were  particularly  exemplified  by  a  little  incident 
which  happened  this  year,  thus  noted  by  Mr.  Dayes, 
the  artist,  who  says,  "  Malice  has  charged  him  with 
avarice  ;  probably  from  his  not  having  been  prodigal 
like  too  many  of  his  profession.  His  offer  to  me  proves 
the  contrary.  At  the  time  that  I  made  the  drawings 
of  the  King  at  St.  Paul's,  after  his  illness,  Reynolds 
complimented  me  handsomely  on  seeing  them,  and 
afterwards  observed,  that  the  labour  bestowed  must 
have  been  such,  that  I  could  not  be  remunerated  from 
selling  them ;  but  if  I  would  publish  them  myself,  he 
would  lend  me  the  money  necessary,  and  engage  to 
get  me  a  handsome  subscription  among  the  nobility."' 

An  unhappy  difference  now  took  place  between  the 
President  and  the  Royal  Academy,  which  made  con- 
siderable noise,  and  has  often  been  related  by  various 
writers,  according  (in  some  measure,)  to  the  feelings 
which  they  had  in  the  business.  I  shall  endeavour, 
however,  to  state  the  whole  affair  as  impartially  as 
possible ;  but  according  to  my  own  conception  of  the 
business,  which  is  very  well  told  by  an  obsure  author 
in  a  pamphlet  published  at  the  time,  who  says,  that 
in  the  year  1790,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  (probably  at 
the  request  of  the  Earl  of  Aylesford,)  possessed  a 
very  anxious  desire  to  procure  the  vacant  professor- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ggl 

fship  of  Perspective  in  the  Academy  for  Mr.  Bouorai, 
an  Italian  arcliitect ;  and  as  Mr.  Bononii  had  not  yet 
been  elected  an  Associate,  and  of  course  was  not  an 
Academician,  it  became  a  necessary  step  to  raise  him 
to  those  situations,  in  order  to  qualify  him  for  being  a 
Professor.  The  election  proceeded,  and  Mr.  Gilpin 
was  a  competitor  for  the  associateship  with  the  Italian 
architect.  The  numbers  on  the  ballot  proved  equal : 
and  the  president  gave  the  casting  vote  for  his  friend 
Mr.  Bonomi,  who  was  thereby  advanced  so  far  to- 
wards the  professorship.  On  the  vacancy  of  an  aca- 
demic seat  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Meyers,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  exerted  all  his  influence  to  obtain  it  for  Mr. 
Bonomi;  but  a  spirit  of  resistance  appeared,  (owing,  I 
believe,  to  some  misconception,  or  to  some  informality 
on  the  part  of  Sir  Joshua,  in  producing  some  drawings 
of  Bonomi's)  and  Mr.  Faseli  was  elected  an  Acade- 
mician by  a  majority  of  two  to  one.  The  President 
then  quitted  the  chair  with  great  dissatisfaction ;  and 
on  the  following  day  (the  twelfth  of  February,)  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  who  for  twenty-one  years  had  filled 
the  chair  of  the  Royal  Academy,  with  honour  to  him- 
self and  his  country,  sent  his  resignation  to  Mr. 
Richards,  the  Secretary  of  the  Academy. 

A  council  was  soon  after  held,  and  the  subject  of 
their  deliberation  was,  the  resignation  of  the  Presi- 
dent. A  letter  from  Sir  Joshua  to  Mr.  Richards  was 
then  read,  declaring  his  resolution  to  resign  the  Presi- 
dency of  the  Royal  Academy.  A  letter  from  Sir  Wil 
iiam  Chambers  to  Sir  Joshua  was  also  read  ;  this  was 
addressed  to  Sir  Joshua,  in  consequence  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam's interview  with  the  King,  in  an  early  stage  of  this 
business;  and,  among  other  flattering  marks  of  the 
Sovereign's  favour,  the  letter  expressed,  "  That  his 
Majesty  would  be  happy  in  Sir  Joshua's  continuing  in 
the  President's  chair." 

Sir  Joshua's  letter  to  Sir  William  Chambers,  in 
reply,  stated  in  effect,  ^'  That  he  inferred  his  conduct 
must  have  been  hitherto  satisfactory  to  his  Majesty, 
from  the  very  gratifying  way  in  which  his  Royal 


ZS2  MEMOIRS  OF 

pleasure  had  been  declared;  and,  if  any  inducement 
could  make  him  depart  from  his  original  resolution, 
tlie  will  of  his  Sovereign  would  prevail;  but  that, 
flattery  by  his  Majesty's  approval  to  the  last,  there 
could  be  nothing  that  was  not  perfectly  honorable  in 
his  resignation ;  and  that,  in  addition  to  this  deter- 
mination, as  he  could  not  consistently  hold  the  sub- 
ordinate distinction  of  Royal  Academician,  after  he 
had  so  long  possessed  the  chair,  he  begged  also  to 
relinquish  that  honour." 

All  idea  of  now  soothing  Sir  Joshua,  by  any  pro- 
ceeding of  tlie  Academy,  since  the  Sovereign's  wishes 
liad  been  of  no  avail,  was  rejected  as  superfluous  and 
inconsistent. 

Immediately  on  Sir  Joshua's  resignation,  the  fol- 
lowing lines  were  addressed  to  him  by  a  Nobleman  of 
genius,  which  I  insert  because  they  contain  character- 
istic truths,  and  elegance  of  poetry.  Some  other 
verses  were  addressed  to  him  by  diflfereut  persons  but 
none  of  equal  merit. 

TO    SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS,    &C,    &C. 

"  Too  wise  for  contest,  and  too  meek  for  strife, 
Like  Lear,  oppress'd  by  tliose  you  rais'd  to  life, 
Thy  sceptre  broken,  thy  dominion  o'er. 
The  curtain  falls,  and  thou'rt  a  king  no  more. 
Still  near  the  wreck  of  thy  demolished  state, 
Truth,  and  the  weeping  Muse  with  me  shall  wait; 
Science  shall  teach  Britannia's  self  to  moan, 
And  make,  O  injured  Friend!  thy  wrongs  her  own, 

"  Shall  we  forget,  when  with  incessant  toil, 
To  thee  'twas  given  to  turn  this  stubborn  soil, 
To  thee  with  flowers  to  deck  our  dreary  waste, 
And  kill  the  poisonous  weeds  of  vicious  taste; 
To  pierce  the  gloom  where  England's  genius  slept, 
Long  of  soft  love  and  tenderness  bereft; 
From  his  young  limbs  to  tear  the  bands  away, 
And  bid  the  infant  giant  run  and  play  ? 

"  Dark  was  the  hour,  the  age  an  age  of  stone, 
When  Hudson  claimed  an  empire  of  his  own ; 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  283 

And  from  the  time  when,  darting  rival  light, 

Vandyke  and  Rubens  cheered  our  northern  night, 

Those  twin  stars  set,  the  Graces  all  had  tied, 

Yet  paused  to  hover  o'er  a  Lely's  head ; 

And  sometimes  bent,  when  won  with  earnest  prayer, 

To  make  the  gentle  Kneller  all  their  care; 

But  ne'er  with  smiles  to  gaudy  Verrio  turned ; 

No  happy  incense  on  his  altars  burned. 

O  witness,  Windsor,  thy  too  passive  walls. 

Thy  tortured  ceilings,  thy  insulted  halls! 

Lo!  England's  glory,  Edward's  conquering  son, 

Cover'd  with  spoils  from  Poictiers  bravely  won  ; 

Yet  no  white  plumes,  no  arms  of  sable  hue, 

Mark  the  young  hero  to  our  ravish'd  view; 

In  buskin  trim,  and  laurelled  helmet  bright, 

A  well-dressed  Roman  meets  our  puzzled  sight; 

And  Gallia's  captive  king,  how  strange  his  doom, 

A  Roman  too  perceives  himself  become! 

<'  See  too  the  miracles  of  God  profaned, 
By  the  mad  daubings  of  this  impious  hand. 
For  while  the  dumb  exult  in  notes  of  praise. 
While  the  lame  walk,  the  blind  in  transport  gaze, 
While  vanquished  demons  Heaven's  high  mandates  hear, 
And  the  pale  dead  spring  from  the  silent  bier; 
With  laced  cravat,  long  wig,  and  careless  mien, 
The  painter's  present  at  the  wondrous  scene! 

"  Vanloo  and  Dahl,  these  may  more  justly  claim 
A  step  still  higher  on  the  throne  of  fame; 
Yet  to  the  west  their  course  they  seem  to  run, 
The  last  red  streaks  of  a  declining  sun. 

"  And  must  we  Jervas  name  ?  so  hard  and  cold, 
In  ermine,  robes,  and  peruke  only  bold ; 
Or  when  inspired,  his  rapturous  pencil  own 
The  rolled-up  stocking,  and  the  damask  gown, 
Behold  a  tasteless  age  in  wonder  stand. 
And  hail  him  the  Appelles  of  the  land ! 
And  Denner  too ; — but  yet  so  void  of  ease, 
His  figures  tell  you  they're  forbid  to  please; 
Nor  in  proportion,  nor  expression  nice, 
The  strong  resemblance  is  itself  a  vice: 
As  wax-work  figures  always  shock  the  sight, 
Too  near  to  human  flesh  and  shape,  affriglit, 
And  when  they  best  are  form'd  aiford  the  least  del 
pp 


ight.  J 


281  MExMOIRS  OF 

"  Turu  ye  from  such  to  thee,  whose  nobler  art 
Rivets  the  eye,  and  penetrates  the  heart 
To  thee  whom  nature,  in  thy  earliest  youth, 
Fed  with  the  honey  of  eternal  truth: 
I'henjby  her  roudlin;;  art,  in  happy  hour, 
Enticed  to  learning's  more  seque^tVed  bovver. 
There  all  thy  life  of  honours  first  was  planned, 
"While  nature  preached,  and  science  held  thy  hand. 
"When,  but  for  these,  condemned  perchance  to  trace 
The  tiresome  vacuum  of  each  senseless  face, 
Thou  in  thy  living  tints  had  ne'er  combined 
AH  grace  of  form,  and  energy  of  mind. 
Hovv,biit  for  these,  siiould  we  have  trembling  fled 
The  guilty  tossings  of  a  Beaufort's  bed; 
Or  let  the  fountain  of  our  sorrows  flow 
At  sigl»t  of  famished  Ugolino's  woe  ? 
Bent  on  revenge,  should  we  have  pensive  stood 
O'er  the  pale  cherubs  of  the  fatal  wood, 
Caught  the  last  perfume  of  their  rosy  breath, 
And  viewed  them  smiling  at  the  stroke  of  death  ? 
Should  we  have  questioned,  stung  with  rage  and  pain, 
The  spectre  line  with  the  distracted  Thane? 
Or  with  Alcmena's  natural  terror  wild, 
From  the  envenomed  serpent  torn  her  child  ? 

<'  And  must  no  more  thy  pure  and  classic  page 
Unfold  its  treasures  to  the  rising  age  .^^ 
Nor  from  thy  own  vVthenian  temple  pour 
On  listening  youtli  of  art  the  copious  store; 
Hold  up  to  labour  independent  ease. 
And  teach  ambition  all  the  ways  to  please; 
AVith  ready  hand  neglected  Genius  save, 
Sickening,  o'erlook'd  in  Misery's  hidden  cave; 
And,  nobly  just,  decide  the  active  mind 
Neither  to  soil, nor  climate  is  confined.^ 

"  Desert  not  then  thy  sons,  those  sons  who  soon 
AVill  mourn  with  me,  and  all  their  error  own. 
Thou  must  excuse  that  raging  fire,  the  same 
"Which  lights  their  daily  course  to  endless  fame  ; 
Alas!  impels  them  thoughtless  far  to  stray 
From  filial  love,  and  Reason's  sober  way. 
Accept  again  thy  power,  resume  the  chair, 
Nor  leave  it,  till  you  place  an  Equal  there." 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS,  285 

Even  Peter  Pindar,  in  his  eccentric  way,  laments 
also  what  he  considered  as  improper  treatment  of  this 
great  painter,  and  in  his  verse  attempts  to  immortalize 
that  head  which  had  so  often,  assisted  hy  liis  hand, 
immortalized  the  heads  of  so  many  others ;  and  this 
the  witty  poet  compares  to  that  of  Orpheus,  whicli,  on 
his  bein^  torn  in  pieces,  was  carried  down  the  stream 
and  drifted  to  the  island  of  Lesbos.  Tlie  passage  is 
in  one  of  his  Lyric  Odes. 

"  Now  Pve  been  thinking,  if  our  Reynolds'  head 
Should,  on  his  palette,  down  the  Thames  drive  souse, 

And  mindful  of  the  walls  he  once  ariaj'd 
Bring  to,  a  bit,  at  Somerset  new  house; 

What  scramblings  there  would  be,  what  worlds  of  pains 

Among  the  artists  to  possess  his  brains. 
And  like  Neanthus  for  great  Orplieus'  lyre. 

Some  for  his  palette  would  be  raising  frays, 
In  hopes,  no  doubt,  the  wood  wouhl  each  inspire 

To  paint  like  him  for — fame  in  better  days; 
As  if  a  soldier,  who'd  no  legs  to  use, 
Should  fight  for  his  dead  comrade's  boots  and  shoos. 

Reynolds,  when  I  reflect  what  sons  of  fame 
Have  shar'd  thy  friendship,  I  with  sighs  regret 
That  all  have  died  a  little  in  thy  debt, 

And  left  a  trump  unknown  to  swell  thy  name; 
But  courage  friend!  when  Time's  releniiess  tooth 
Hath  nibbled  mountains  to  the  ground  smack  smooth 
And  pick*d,as  one  would  pick  a  savoury  bone. 
Each  monument  of  iron,  and  brass,  and  stone: — 
Thy  name  shall  live,  and  like  heav'n's  sacred  fire 
Succeeding  artists  kindle,  and  inspire." 

Every  Academician  now  regretted  the  unforeseen 
consequence  of  the  unfortunate  disagreement;  how- 
ever, tlie  whole  body  showed  so  liberal  a  desire  to 
retain  Sir  Joshua  in  the  chair,  tliat,  after  agitating 
those  unpleasant  differences  between  the  president 
and  the  academy  with  as  much  delicacy  as  possible, 
it  was  determined  that  a  delegation  of  the  following 
gentlemen,  to  wit,  Messrs.  West,  Farington,  Cos  way, 
Catton,  Sand  by,  Bacon,  Copley,  Barry,  and  Rigaud, 
should  wait  upon  Sir  Joshua,  and  lay  before  him  the 


386  MExMOIRS  OF 

resolution  which  tlie  Academy  had  come  to  iu  order  to 
produce  a  conciliatory  effect.  The  resolution  was  in 
substance  as  follows : 

^'  That  it  appeared,  when  the  drawings  of  Mr. 
Bonomi  were  introduced  at  the  election,  Sir  Joshua, 
by  whose  directions  they  were  brought  in,  had  certain- 
ly acted  iu  conformity  to  tlic  intentions  of  the  council, 
as  appeared  by  an  order  entered  on  their  books :  but 
that,  such  order  not  going  through  the  regular  forms 
necessary  to  constitute  a  law,  the  full  body  of  Acade- 
micians remained  ignorant  of  the  proceeding,  and 
therefore  fell  into  an  error  iu  ordering  the  drawings 
to  be  removed.  But,  as  they  unanimously  professed 
that  no  personal  disrespect  was  intended  towards  Sir 
Joshua,  they  trusted  he  would  be  prevailed  upon  to 
comply  with  the  wishes  of  the  King,  and  continue  in 
the  Presidency  of  the  Royal  Academy." 

The  above  delegates  accordingly  waited  upon  Sir 
.Tosiiua,  to  intreat  him  to  w  ithdraw  his  letter  of  resig- 
nation, and  resume  his  situation  as  President  of  an 
institution  to  which  his  talents  had  been  so  long  an 
essential  support.  Tliey  had  an  interview  with  him 
at  his  house  in  Leicester  Square,  and  were  received 
with  great  politeness;  and  every  mark  of  respect  was 
expressed  by  tliose  who  had  hitherto  been  deemed 
least  cordial  to  the  interests  of  the  President.  Upon  a 
full  explanation  of  the  intentions  and  views  of  the 
Academy  being  made,  and  their  wishes  expressed 
that  Sir  Joshua  would  continue  to  adorn  the  presi- 
dency, he,  after  a  handsome  declaration  of  his  grati- 
tude for  this  honorable  proceeding  towards  him, 
consented  to  resume  the  chair,  and  the  whole  of  the 
delegates  were  invited  to  dine  with  him,  in  order  to 
convince  them  that  he  returned  to  his  office  with 
aentiments  of  the  most  cordial  amity. 

On  the  suggestion  of  Lord  Lansdowne,  it  was 
thought  that  Sir  Joshua  could  not  resume  the  chair 
till  he  had  tiie  proper  authority  of  the  King.  For  this, 
in  due  form,  Lord  Lansdowne  applied ;  and  when 
granted,  this  great  artist  attended  at  Somerset  House, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ggjf 

to  be  restored  to  all  his  honours  in  full  assembly  of 
the  members. 

Shortly  after  this,  Sir  Joshua  delivered  his  fifteenth 
and  last  discourse,  in  which  lie  took  leave  of  the 
Academy,  on  the  10th  of  December,  I79O :  a  dis- 
course which  gave  a  foreign  artist,  of  considerable 
celebrity,  occasion  to  say,  that  if  he  had  only  heard 
this  final  oration  in  praise  of  Michael  Angelo,  and 
seen  that  great  national  ornament,  Somerset  H«)use, 
he  should  have  been  certain  that  the  English  nation 
were  far  advanced  in  the  highest  departments  of  art. 

On  this  interesting  occasion,  Sir  Joshua  observed, 
that  the  intimate  connexion  which  he  had  maintained 
Avith  the  Royal  Academy  ever  since  its  establishment, 
and  the  social  duties  in  which  he  and  its  members 
had  been  mutually  engaged  for  so  many  years,  render- 
ed any  profession  of  attachment  on  his  part  altogether 
superfluous;  as,  independent  of  other  causes,  such 
attachment  would  naturally  have  been  produced  in 
such  a  connexion,  by  the  influence  of  habit  alone.  He 
modestly  hinted  at  the  little  difl'erences  which  had 
arisen :  but  expressed  his  wish  that  such  things 
should  be  lost  amongst  the  members  in  mutual  esteem 
for  talents  and  acquirements,  and  that  every  contro- 
versy would  be  sunk  in  general  zeal  for  the  perfection 
of  that  art  common  to  them  all. 

In  parting  with  the  Academy,  he  declared  that  he 
would  remember  with  pride,  affection,  and  gratitude, 
the  support  with  which  he  had  almost  uniformly  been 
honored,  from  the  commencement  of  the  Establish- 
ment; and  that  he  should  leave  it  with  unaffected 
cordial  wishes  for  its  future  concord,  aud  with  a  well- 
founded  hope,  that  in  that  concord,  the  auspicious, 
and  not  obscure,  origin  of  the  Academy,  might  not  be 
forgotten  in  the  splendour  of  succeding  prospects. 

He  then,  with  his  usual  modesty,  assigned  his 
reasons  for  thus  voluntarily  giving  those  periodical 
discourses. 

"  If  prizes  were  to  be  given,  it  appeared  not  only 
proper  but  almost  indispensably  necessary,  that  some- 


288  MEMOIRS  OF 

thing  should  be  said  by  the  President  on  the  delivery 
of  those  prizes,  and  the  President,  for  his  own  credit, 
would  wish  to  say  something  move  than  mere  words 
of  compliment ;  which,  by  being  frequentl}-^  repeated, 
would  soon  become  Hat  and  uninteresting,  and  by 
being  uttered  to  many,  would  at  last  become  a  dis- 
tinction to  none.  I  thought,  therefore,  if  I  were  to 
preface  this  compliment  with  some  instructive  ob- 
servations on  the  art,  when  we  crowned  merit  in  the 
artists  whom  we  rewarded,  1  might  do  something  to 
animate  and  guide  them  in  their  future  attempts." 

Though  Sir  Joshua  had  not  actually  made  his  final 
resignation  at  this  period,  yet  it  is  evident  that  he 
contemplated  it,  as  he  observed  that  his  age  and  in- 
firmities made  it  probable  that  this  would  really  be 
his  last  address ;  and  he  added,  with  a  degree  of 
philosophy  wortliy  of  imitation,  that  excluded  as  he 
was  from  indulging  his  imagination  with  a  distant 
and  forward  perspective  of  life,  so  he  trusted  that  he 
would  be  excused  for  turning  his  eyes  back  on  the 
way  that  he  had  passed. 

To  follow  him  through  this  review  of  his  pro- 
fessional life  and  discourses  would  far  exceed  my 
proposed  limits;  but  I  may  be  permitted  to  say,  that 
if  he  did  not  absolutely  feel  the  ruling  passion  strong 
in  death,  yet  he  appeared  to  express  its  strongest 
sentiments  in  what  may  thus  be  called  his  professional 
demise,  whicli  he  concluded  with  these  remarkable 
words,  after  having  expatiated  on  the  exalted  genius 
of  his  favourite  master — 

^*  I  feel  a  self-congratulation  in  knowing  myself 
capable  of  such  sensations  as  he  intended  to  excite. 
I  reflect,  not  without  vanity,  that  these  discourses 
bear  testimony  of  my  admiration  of  that  truly  divine 
man ;  and  I  should  desire  that  the  last  words  which  I 
should  pronounce  in  this  Academy,  and  from  this 
place,  might  be  the  name  of — Michael  Angela  !'^ 

On  tlie  evening  of  tiie  delivery  of  this  discourse 
one  remarkable  circumstance  occurred,  which,  at  the 
moment,   not   a  little   alarmed   the  company  there 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  289 

assembled,  and  wliich  was  this.  At  the  time  when 
Sir  Joshua  was  delivering  his  oration  to  a  verv 
numerous  and  even  crowded  audience,  composed  of 
persons  of  the  highest  rank  in  the  state,  as  well  as  all 
those  who  were  the  most  eminent  in  art,  and  just  at  the 
moment  when  a  respectful  and  solemn  silence  prevail- 
ed, on  a  sudden  a  loud  crash  was  heard,  and  a  sensa- 
tion felt,  as  if  the  floor  of  (his  great  room,  which  is  at 
the  top  of  the  house,  was  giving  way  and  falling.^ 
The  company  immediately  took  the  alarm,  and  rush- 
ed towards  the  door,  or  to  the  sides  of  the  room, 
tumbling  one  over  the  other,  in  the  utmost  confusion 
and  consternation,  expecting,  every  moment,  that  the 
floor  would  fall  away,  and  [)recipitate  them  down  to 
the  lower  part  of  the  building. 

Sir  Joshua  was  silent,  but  did  not  move  from  his 
seat:  when,  after  some  little  time,  the  company  per- 
ceiving that  the  danger  had  ceased,  most  of  them 
resumed  their  places,  and  Sir  Joshua  calmly  con- 
tinued his  discourse,  as  coolly  as  if  nothing  extraor- 
dinary had  occurred. 

On  an  examination  of  the  floor  afterwards,  it  was 
found  that  one  of  the  beams  for  its  support  had  actual- 
ly given  way  from  the  great  weight  of  the  assembly 
of  persons  who  pressed  up6n  it,  and  probably  from  a 
flaw  also  in  the  wood. 

I  remember  the  remark  Sir  Josliua  made  on  this 
accident  was,  that  if  the  floor  had  really  fallen,  most 
of  the  persons  assembled  must  have  been  crushed  i<> 
death  in  consequence;  and  if  so,  the  arts,  in  this 
country,  would  have  been  thrown  two  hundred  years 
back. 

But,  providentially,  no  ill  eflect  was  produced  by 
the  circumstance. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  that 
Michael  Angelo  was  superior  to  the  ancients,  as  he 
once  declared  to  me ;  and  on  my  not  according  with 
him  in  that  opinion,  1  remember  he  said,  ^*  You  have 
the  strongest  party  in  the  argument,  because  you  have 
the  world  on  your  side,*'    But  at  this  time  I  am  more 


ggO  MExMOlRS  OF 

inclined  to  think  with  him,  at  least  thus  far,  that  in 
the,  works  of  Michael  Angelo  there  always  appears 
to  be  an  exquisite  sentiment  produced;  but  from  the 
antique,  nothing  of  that  which  he  inspires.  The  an- 
tique gives  us,  undoubtedly,  a  more  perfect  example 
of  just  proportions,  and  of  characters.  I  apprehend 
the  same  qualities  run  through  all  their  works  of  every 
species  :  their  dramas  seem  to  be  the  works  of  men  of 
most  powerful  heads,  and  therefore  the  most  proper 
models  for  the  schools,  as,  in  them,  nothing  that  is 
wrong  can  be  found ;  and  we  may  therefore  assist  our 
judgment,  by  tlie  help  of  their  examples,  as  infallible 
guides,  which  examples  can  be  reduced  to  rules.  But 
the  feelings  of  the  heart  admit  of  but  little  assistance 
or  improvement  from  iixed  rules.  Thus,  he  who  may 
have  settled  his  notions  of  perfection  from  the  models 
of  the  ancient  dramas,  and  supposes  nothing  can  sur- 
pass them  in  any  quality  whatever,  must  be  struck 
with  astonishment  and  admiration,  when,  for  the  first 
time,  he  contemplates  the  pages  of  Shakspeare,  where 
such  various  sensations,  subtle  and  refined,  are  de- 
scribed. Yet  Shakspeare  cannot,  like  the  ancients,  be 
admitted  as  a  model  for  the  schools,  inasmuch  as 
he  is  irregular  and  licentious,  and  his  excellencies, 
like  all  those  of  genius,  cannot  be  taught. 

It  must  have  been  in  this  view  that  Sir  Joshua 
saw  a  superiority  in  Michael  Angelo  over  the  an- 
tique ;  as  surely  he  could  not  think  him  equal  to  them 
in  just  proportion,  or  in  the  decision  and  propriety  of 
character. 

Some  attempts  may  be  discovered  in  his  practice  to 
imitate  Michael  Angelo;  and  more  to  imitate  Corre- 
gio :  but  it  is  evident,  that  his  whole  life  was  devoted  to 
his  finding  out  the  Venetian  mode  of  colouring;  in  the 
pursuit  of  which  he  risked  both  his  fame  and  his 
fortune. 

This  being  nearly  the  close  of  Sir  Joshua's  pro- 
fessional life,  I  may  remark,  that,  for  some  years,  his 
price  has  been  fifty  guineas  for  a  head  portrait,  the 
other  sizes  being  in  proportion.    On  this  subject,  a 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  291 

friend  observed  to  him,  that  it  certainly  seemed  to  be 
a  great  demand;  but  that  when  it  was  taken  into  con- 
sideration how  many  pictures  were  left  upon  his 
hands,  and  never  paid  for,  it  would  not  amount  to 
more,  perhaps,  than  ten  guineas  for  each,  individually, 
which  was  too  small  a  price.  To  this  Sir  Joshua 
smilingly  replied,  that  he  thought  "  ten  guineas  for 
each  was  a  very  reasonable  profit.'^ 

I  recollect  a  circumstance  of  a  certain  lad}^  who 
came  to  Sir  Joshua  to  have  her  portrait  painted  by 
him,  a  short  time  before  he  raised  his  price  to  its  final 
extent;  but  on  her  asking  his  demand,  and  being  in- 
formed that  it  was  forty  guineas  for  the  half  length, 
she  started,  saying  that  she  did  not  apprehend  his 
terms  to  be  so  high,  adding,  that  she  must  take  soma 
time  to  consider  upon  it.  Shortly  after,  this  lady  paid 
Sir  Joshua  another  visit,  and  informed  him,  that  she 
had  now  made  up  her  mind,  and  was  come  to  a  reso- 
lution to  comply  with  his  proposed  terms ;  when  he 
acquainted  her  of  his  price  being  raised;  and,  of  course, 
that  what  would  have  been  forty,  was  now  sixty 
guineas.  Thus,  doubly  mortified,  the  lady  saw 
there  was  no  alternative  ;  and  she  frankly  owned,  that 
she  would  have  her  portrait  drawn  by  him  at  any 
price  ;  and  accordingly  sat  for  it. 

Though  now  contemplating  a  succession  from  pub- 
lic life,  Sir  Joshua  did  not  feel  any  decrease  in  his 
love  for  the  art,  or  in  his  good  wishes  for  the  pro. 
fession,  sentiments  strikingly  evinced  by  iiis  general 
conduct  at  all  times,  and  particularly  so  in  the  year 

1791. 

He  had,  during  the  course  of  his  professional  la- 
bours, procured  a  very  large  and  valuable  collection 
of  paintings,  the  works  of  the  old  masters ;  and  his 
assemblage  of  prints  was  highly  valuable  and  interest- 
ing. So  great,  indeed,  was  his  desire  to  render  his 
collection  a  good  one,  that,  as  Mr.  Dayes  very  accu- 
rately states,  he  offered  to  cover  twice  with  guineas, 
as  the  price  of  purchase,  the  picture  of  the  "  Witch 
coming  from  Hell  with  a  lap  full  of  Charms,'^  by 
Qq 


o^QH  MEMOIRS  OF 

Tenievs;  but  this  was  refused.  Yet  it  is  pleasing  to 
record,  that  lie  afterwards  possessed  this  very  picture; 
and,  as  he  modestly  declared,  by  only  painting  a  por- 
trait, a  fancy  subject,  and  i^iving  another  of  his  own 
works,  already  executed.  The  sum  which  lie  offered 
would  have  amounted  to  nearly  one  thousand  guineas ! 

In  this  collection  he  had  what  he  thought  to  be  au 
oil  painting  of  his  favourite,  Michael  Angelo — a 
JVladoua  and  Child.  But  this  involves  a  question 
which  no  one  can  determine;  for  if  it  was  by  Michael 
Angelo  it  would  be  invaluable  indeed,  not  so  much 
from  its  intrinsic  merit,  as  from  the  extreme  rarity  of 
oil  paintings  from  the  pencil  of  tliat  artist,  and  of 
M'hich  there  are,  indeed,  very  few  in  existence  ;  for 
oil-fainting,  he  used  to  say,  '^  was  only  fit  for  women 
and  children!*"* 

Still,  however,  Sir  Joshua's  professed  admiration  of 
him  was  so  great,  that  Angelo's  head  was  engraved 
on  his  seal ;  and  he  also  introduced  his  bust  in  that 
portrait  which  he  painted  of  himself  for  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  has  marked  the  name  of  Michael  An- 
gelo on  the  paper  held  in  the  hand  of  his  portrait,  now 
in  the  Gallery  at  Florence. 

__,  So  anxious  was  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  for  the  dif- 
fusion of  a  good  taste  in  the  art,  and  that  future 
students  might  find  a  practical  commentary  on  those 
precepts  which  he  had  now  ceased  to  deliver,  that  he,  in 
the  most  liberal  manner,  offered  to  the  Academy  this 
collection  of  paintings  at  a  very  low  price,  on  the  con- 
dition that  they  would  purchase  the  Lyceum  in  the 
Strand  for  the  purpose  of  constructing  an  exhibition 
room.  This  generous  offer,  however,  for  several 
reasons,  was  declined  ;  yet  this  must  still  be  a  subject 
of  regret  when  we  consider  the  various  testimonies 
which  Sir  Joshua  has  left,  to  the  merit  of  the  great 
masters,  and  the  necessity  of  often  referring  to  them  ; 
and  whilst  so  many  well  selected  works  were  in  this 
collection.     In  one  place  he  exclaims,  "  On  whom, 

*  He  had  also  a^Studij  by  the  same  master. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  §93 

then,  can  the  student  rely,  or  who  shall  slievv  him  the 
path  that  leads  to  excellence?  The  answer  is  obvious  : 
those  great  masters  who  have  travelled  the  same  road 
with  success,  are  the  most  likely  to  conduct  others. 
The  works  of  those  who  have  stood  the  test  ol"  ages, 
have  a  claim  to  that  respect  and  veneration  to  which 
no  mortal  can  pretend.  The  duration  and  stability  of 
their  fame  are  sufficient  to  evince  that  it  has  not  been 
suspended  upon  the  slender  thread  of  fashion  and 
caprice,  but  bound  to  the  human  heart  by  every  tie  of 
sympathetic  approbation."  He  follows  this  up  by 
adding,  that  "  Our  minds  should  be  habituated  to  the 
contemplation  of  excellence,  and,  far  from  being  con- 
tented to  make  such  habits  the  discipline  of  our  youth 
only,  we  should,  to  tiie  last  mom.nt  of  our  lives,  con- 
tinue a  settled  intercourse  with  all  the  true  examples 
of  grandeur.  Tlieir  inventions  are  not  only  the  food 
of  our  infancy,  but  the  substance  which  supplies  the 
fullest  maturity  of  our  vigour." 

His  often  repeated  advice  then  was, — ^'  Study, 
therefore,  the  great  works  of  the  great  masters  for 
ever.  Study,  as  nearly  as  you  can,  in  the  order,  m 
the  manner,  on  the  principles,  on  which  they  studied. 
Study  nature  attentively,  but  always  with  those  mas- 
ters in  your  company;  consider  them  as  models  wiiich 
you  are  to  imitate,  and  at  the  same  time  as  rivals 
which  you  are  to  combat." 

Failing  in  his  attempt  to  establish  a  gallery  for  his 
pictures,  Sir  Joshua  in  this  year,  (179f>)  determined 
to  make  a  temporary  exhibition  of  them;  and  this 
took  place  in  the  month  of  April,  at  an  a[)artment  in 
the  Haymarket,  which  had  formerly  been  that  of 
Ford  the  auctioneer.  To  this,  the  price  of  admission 
was  one  shilling;  and  as  the  profits  arising  from  the 
exhibition  were  generously  given  by  him  to  his  old 
servant,  Ralph  Kirkley,  so  in  the  catalogue  it  was 
designated  as,  ^^  Ralph's  Exhibition." 

Hitherto,  Sir  Joshua's  personal  health  had  not  for- 
sook him,  and  indeed,  Mr.  Malone  states  that  in  Sep- 
temper  of  tlys  year,  he  was  in  such  healtii  and  spirits, 


294j  memoirs  of 

that  on  returning  to  London  from  Gregories  in  Buck- 
inghamshire, the  seat  of  their  mutual  friend  Edmund 
Burke,  he  and  Sir  Joshua  left  his  carriage  at  the  Inn 
at  Hayes,  and  walked  five  miles  on  the  road  in  a  warm 
day,  without  his  complaining  of  any  fatigue.  "  He 
had  at  that  time,  though  above  sixty-eight  years  of 
age,  the  appearance  of  a  man  not  much  beyond  fifty, 
and  seemed  as  likely  to  live  for  ten  or  fifteen  years, 
as  any  of  his  younger  friends." 

In  October,  however,  his  spirits  became  much 
depressed,  as  he  then  entertained  strong  apprehen- 
sions respecting  a  tumour  which  had  been  for  some 
time  collecting  over  his  left  eye.  TJiis  was  now  ac- 
companied by  a  considerable  degree  of  inflammation, 
whicli  rendered  him  fearful  that  his  right  eye  might 
also  be  aflfeeted,  and  the  surgeons  adopted  every 
means  in  their  power  to  discuss  it,  but  without  effect; 
for  it  was  afterwards  discovered  to  consist  merely  of 
extravasated  blood,  and  had  no  connection  with  the 
optic  nerve. 

He  was  so  impressed,  however,  with  a  knowledge 
of  his  own  state  of  health,  that  he  now  determined  to 
retire  from  the  situation  of  President;  and  accordingly 
be  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Academy,  "  intimating  his 
intention  to  resign  the  office  on  account  of  bodily 
infirmities,  which  disabled  him  from  executing  the 
duties  of  it  to  his  own  satisfaction.'' 

This  was  dated  on  the  lOth  of  November;  and  on 
the  15th,  a  meeting  of  all  the  Academicians  being 
called  for  the  election  of  associates  to  that  body,  Mr. 
West  the  present  President,  laid  the  letter  before 
them,  which  was  received  with  the  most  respectful 
concern  by  his  long  tried  companions,  to  whom  his 
talents  and  virtues  were  so  well  known. 

It  was  now  proposed  to  embody  a  resolution  whose 
purport  should  be  that  a  deputation  should  wait  on 
Sir  Joshua  to  express  their  regret  at  this  determina- 
tion, and  their  wish  that  he  might  still  retain  the 
office,  but  appoint  a  deputy  to  execute  its  more  labori- 
ous duties.   This  office  was  bestowed  on,  and  accepted 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  295 

hy.  Mr.  West,  as  a  temporary  arraugemeut ;  but  Sir 
Joshua  was  never  able  afterwards  to  resume  any  of 
his  functions;  for  as  Mr.  Malone  observes,  "  he 
laboured  under  a  much  more  dangerous  disease,  (than 
that  connected  with  the  state  of  his  eves,)  which 
deprived  him  of  his  wonted  spirits  and  his  appetite, 
though  he  was  wholly  unable  to  explain  to  his  pliysi- 
cians  the  nature  or  seat  of  his  disorder." 

During  the  course  of  Sir  Joshua's  active  life,  he 
had  passed  his  days  in  a  state  of  professional  honour 
and  social  enjoyment,. that  has  scarcely  been  equalled, 
and  never  surpassed  by  any  of  his  predecessors  in  art. 
He  had  been  blessed  also  with  an  excellent  constitu- 
tion by  nature.  Of  these  advantages  lie  was  very 
sensible,  and  I  well  remember  a  remark  he  once 
made  to  me,  saying,  '^  I  have  been  fortunate  in  an 
uninterrupted  share  of  good  health  and  success  for 
thirty  years  of  my  life :  therefore,  whatever  ills  may 
attend  on  the  remainder  of  ray  days,  1  shall  have  no 
right  to  complain." 

But  infirmities  more  than  age  seemed  to  rush  upon 
liim  in  the  decline  of  life,  and  were  naturally  embit- 
tered by  the  sudden  contrast.  He  had  from  the  begin- 
ning of  his  malady  a  fixed  apprehension  that  it  would 
end  fatally  to  him,  yet  death  was  slow  in  its  ap- 
proach, which  he  surveyed  with  the  fortitude  of  a 
philosopher,  and  the  piety  of  a  christian. 

When  a  friend  attempted  to  give  him  comfort  in 
the  hope  of  returning  health..  He  calmly  answered, 
"  I  know  that  all  things  on  earth  must  have  an  end, 
and  now  I  am  come  to  mine." 

It  was  not  more  than  a  fortnight  before  his  death, 
it  was  discovered  that  his  disorder  was  occasioned  by 
a  diseased  liver,  which  had  confined  him  three  painful 
months  to  his  bed. 

Thus,  not  having  completed  his  sixty-ninth  year, 
he  was  taken  from  tiie  world  which  admired  him,  and 
the  country  which  he  adorned,  on  Thursday  evening, 
February  the  23rd,  1792.  His  friends  had  for  some 
considerable  time  conceived  that  he  was  low  spirited, 


296  MEMOIRS  OF 

without  material  cause;  but  on  his  being  opened  by 
Mr.  Hunter,  a  preternatural  enlargement  of  the  liver, 
to  more  tlian  double  the  usual  size,  sufficiently  ac- 
counted for  his  depression  and  his  death. 

Thus  have  I  humbly  attempted  to  trace  tlie  rise, 
and  progress  to  the  final  dissolution,  of  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  the  nation's  ornament,  and  the  favourite  of 
an  approving  world,  taken  from  it  when  in  the  height 
of  his  professional  honours,  and  in  tl)e  full  possession 
of  an  established  fame — an  artist  and  a  man  of  whom 
scarce  any  praise  can  be  too  high. 

To  sum  up  his  character  in  brief  I  shall  here  insert 
the  eulogium  of  Burke,  written  on  tlie  impulse  of  the 
moment,  and  which  is  alike  creditable  to  the  memory 
of  departed  genius,  and  to  the  ready  talent  of  the 
surviving  friend. 

"  Last  night,  in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age, 
died,  at  his  house  in  Leicester  fields.  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds.  His  illness  was  long,  but  borne  with  a 
mild  and  cheerful  fortitude,  without  the  least  mixture 
of  any  thing  irritable  or  querulous;  agreeably  to  the 
placid  and  even  tenour  of  his  whole  life.  He  had, 
from  the  beginning  of  his  malady,  a  distinct  view  of 
his  dissolution;  and  he  contemplated  it  with  that 
entire  composure,  which  nothing  but  the  innocence, 
integrity,  and  usefulness  of  his  life,  and  an  unaffected 
submission  to  the  will  of  Providence,  could  bestow. 
In  this  situation  he  had  every  consolation  from  family 
tenderness,  which  his  own  kindness  had,  indeed,  well 
deserved. 

'^  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was,  on  very  many  ac- 
counts,  one  of  the  most  memorable  men  of  his  time. 
He  was  the  first  Englishman  who  added  the  praise  of 
the  elegant  arts  to  the  other  glories  of  his  country. 
In  taste,  in  gmce,  in  facility,  in  happy  invention,  and 
in  the  richness  and  harmony  of  colouring,  he  was 
equal  to  the  greatest  masters  of  the  renowned  ages. 
In  portrait  he  went  beyond  them ;  for  he  communi- 
cated to  that  description  of  the  art,  in  which  English 
artists  are  the  most  engaged,  a  variety,  a  fancy,  and  a 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  §97 

dignity,  derived  from  the  higher  branches,  which  even 
those  who  professed  them  in  a  superior  manner,  did 
not  always  preserve,  when  they  delineated  individual 
nature.  His  portraits  remind  the  spectator  of  the 
invention  of  history,  and  tlie  amenity  of  landscape. 
In  painting  portraits,  he  appeared  not  to  be  raised 
upon  that  platform,  but  to  descend  upon  it  from  a 
higher  sphere.  His  paintings  illustrate  his  lessons^ 
and  his  lessons  seem  to  be  derived  from  his  paintings. 

"  He  possessed  the  theory  as  perfectly  as  the  prac- 
tice of  his  art.  To  be  such  a  painter,  he  was  a  pro- 
found and  penetrating  philosopher. 

"  In  full  affluence  of  foreign  and  domestic  fame,  ad- 
mired by  the  expert  in  art,  and  by  the  learned  in 
science,  courted  by  the  great,  caressed  by  Sovereign 
powers,  and  celebrated  by  distinguished  poets,  his 
native  humility,  modesty  and  candour,  never  forsook 
him  even  on  surprize  or  provocation;  nor  was  the 
least  degree  of  arrogance  or  assumption  visible  to  the 
most  scrutinizing  eye  in  any  part  of  his  conduct  or 
discourse. 

"  His  talents  of  every  kind,  powerful  from  nature, 
and  not  meanly  cultivated  by  letters,  his  social  virtues 
in  all  the  relations  and  all  the  habitudes  of  life,  ren- 
dered him  the  centre  of  a  very  great  and  unparalleled 
variety  of  agreeable  societies,  and  which  will  be  dis- 
sipated by  his  death.  He  had  too  much  merit  not  to 
excite  some  jealousy,  too  much  innocence  to  provoke 
any  enmity.  The  loss  of  no  man  of  his  time  can  be 
felt  with  more  sincere,  general,  and  unmixed  sorrow. 

*^  hail!  and  farewell!" 

All  the  periodical  journals  of  the  time  teemed  with 
eulogies  on  the  character  of  this  eminent  man ;  but 
they  are  too  numerous  to  insert  here,  although  several 
of  them  were  extremely  well  w  ritten  :  but  of  this  of 
Burke's,  it  was  said  by  a  contemporary  journalist, 
that  it  was  the  eulogium  of  AjJelles  pronounced  by 
Pericles,  and  that  to  attempt  to  add  to  it,  would  be  to 


298  MEMOIRS  OF 

risk  the  same  censure  that  would  be  passed  upon  an 
inferior  artist  who  slionld  presume  to  retouch  one  of 
Sir  Joshua's  own  pictures. 

What  now  remains  to  be  detailed,  is  the  account  of 
liis  funeral;  and  I  shall,  in  this,  avail  myself  partly  of 
co{»ying  some  particulars  of  that  solemn  ceremony  as 
they  were  drawn  up  for  the  public  prints,  by  the  pens, 
it  is  said,  of  Messrs.  Burke  and  Malone  in  conjunc- 
tion— a  vfry  just  statement  given  with  simplicity  and 
feeling,  and  worthy  of  its  subject. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  premise,  that  Mr.  Burke 
applied  by  letter  to  the  Council  of  the  Royal  Acade- 
my, soon  after  Sir  Joshua's  decease,  requesting  that 
the  apartment  allotted  to  the  exhibition,  might  then 
be  prepared  in  the  usual  forms  of  solemnity,  in  order 
that  the  body  might  lie  there  in  state  previous  to  in- 
terment, so  that  the  last  sad  tribute  to  his  memory 
might  take  place  from  that  spot  so  often  embellished 
by  the  effusions  of  his  magic  pencil. 

The  Academy  felt  the  requisition  too  forcibly,  not 
to  consent  immediately,  with  one  solitary  exception; 
however,  this  opposition  was  sufficiently  powerful  to 
hold  its  ground  against  all  the  united  voices,  until 
silenced  by  an  express  order  from  the  Royal  Patron 
that  every  possible  honour  should  be  paid  to  the  mem- 
ory of  their  venerable  President. 

Therefore,  acting  under  this  express  order  of  his 
majesty,  a  condescension  highly  honourable  to  the 
memory  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  exceedingly 
gratifying  to  the  wishes  of  that  Society  of  eminent 
Artists — every  thing  being  finally  arranged,  the 
corpse,  in  the  coffin  covered  with  black  velvet,  was 
removed  from  Leicester-fields  to  Somerset-house  on 
the  night  of  Friday,  the  2nd  of  March,  where  it  lay 
in  state  that  night,  and  until  the  beginning  of  the 
funeral  procession,  in  the  Model-room  of  the  Academy 
which  was  hung  with  black  cloth  and  lighted  by 
chandeliers,  whilst  an  escutcheon  of  arms  was  em- 
blazoned at  the  head  of  the  room;  the  hour  of  noon 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  ggg 

on  the  folloM'ing  day  being  appointed  for  the  perform- 
ance of  the  obsequies. 

On  Saturday,  the  3rd  of  March,  1792,  the  expecta- 
tion of  this  solemnity  had  filled  all  the  streets,  through 
which  tlie  procession  was  to  pass,  with  people  innu- 
merable of  all  ranks,  as  well  as  the  windows  of  every 
house ;  but  the  passage  of  all  carriages,  except  those 
which  were  to  form  the  procession,  was  strictly  pre- 
vented by  peace  officers  stationed  for  that  purpose, 
and  all  the  shops  in  the  line  of  procession  were  closely 
shut  up. 

Independent  of  those  who,  according  to  the  ar- 
rangement, were  to  form  the  funeral  cavalcade,  the 
greatest  part  of  the  most  distinguished  individuals 
in  the  kingdom  had  assembled  at  Somerset-house, 
anxious  to  pay  the  last  melancholy  duties  to  him 
whom  they  had  been  accustomed  to  love  for  his  vir- 
tues, and  to  respect  for  his  talents ;  and  many  more 
were  prevented  by  illness  and  unexpected  and  un- 
avoidable necessity,  from  paying  this  mark  of  respect, 
to  their  great  regret. 

The  persons,  who  attended  the  funeral,  assembled 
in  the  Council-chamber  and  Library  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  the  Academicians  in  the  great  Exhibi- 
tion-room; and  as  many  others  as  could  be  admitted 
with  propriety  into  the  procession,  were  permitted  to 
join  it;  and  though  the  company  were  very  select, 
yet  so  extended  was  the  line  of  carriages,  that  the 
procession  required  nearly  two  hours  to  move  from 
Somerset-house  to  St.  Paul's :  and  the  last  carriage 
had  only  to  set  oiF  from  the  former  place  just  as  the 
City  Marshals,  who  led  the  procession,  had  arrived 
at  the  doors  of  the  Cathedral. 


R  r 


300  MEMOIRS  OF 

The  order  of  the  procession  was  arranged  as  fol- 
lows : 

Twelve  peace  officers  to  clear  the  way. 

Two  City  Marshals  on  liorscback. 

Lord  Mayor's  Carriage. 

Two  SheriiTs  of  London. 

The  Undertaker  and  ten  Conductors  on  horsebacks 

A  Lid  with  plumes  of  feathers. 

The  Hearse  with  six  horses. 

Ten  Pall -bearers,  viz. 

Duke  of  Dorset,  Lord  Higli  Steward  of 

His  Majesty's  Household, 

Duke  of  Leeds,  Duke  of  Portland, 

Marquis  Townshend,  Marquis  of  Abercorn, 

Earl  of  Carlisle,  Earl  of  Inchiquin, 

Earl  of  Upper  Ossory,  Lord  Viscount  Palmerston, 

Lord  Eliot. 

Robert  Lovel  Gwatkin,  Esq.  Chief  Mourner. 

Two  Attendants  of  the  family,  one  of  them 

Mr.  Marchi. 

Right  Honourable  Edmund  Burke.  ^ 

Edmond  Malone,  Esq.  >    Executors. 

Philip  Metcalfe,  Esq.  ) 

The  Council  of  the  Royal  Academy. 
The  Keeper.    Tlie  Treasurer. 
The  Secretary.    The  Librarian. 
Professors. 
Mr.  T.  Sand  by,  Mr.  Barry, 
Bennet  Langton,  Esq.     James  Boswell,  Esq. 
(in  ancient  literature.)  {Secretary  for foreig-v 

correspondence.') 

Academicians,  two  and  two. 

Associates,  two  and  two. 

Artists,  not  members  of  the  Royal  Academy. 

Students. 

After  these-,  there  followed,  the  Archbishop  of  York, 
Marquis  of  Buckingham,  Earls  of  Fife  and  Carys- 
fort^  Bishop  of  London,  Lords  St.  Asaph,  Fortescue, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  301 

Vomers,  and  Lucan,  the  Dean  of  Norwich,  Risjht 
Honourable  William  Windham,  Sirs  Abraham  Hume, 
George  Beaumont,  Thomas  Dundas,  Charles  Bun- 
bury,  and  William  Forbes,  Barts.  Drs.  Geori^e  Fur- 
dyce,  Ash,  Brocklesby,  and  Blagden ;  also  the  fol- 
lowing Members  of  Parliament,  Sir  William  ScoU, 
George  Rose,  John  Rolle,  William  Weddell,  Regi- 
nald Pole  Carew,  Mattliew  Alontague,  Richard 
P.  Knight,  Dudle}'^  North,  and  John  Cleveland, 
Esquires ;  to  whom  we  may  add  other  gentlemen,  viz. 
Richard  Clark,  Charles  Townley,  Ahel  Moysey, 
Welbore  *  Ellis  Agar,  William  Seward,  Edward 
Jerningham,  Richard  Burke,  Tlioiiias  Coutts,  J.  J. 
Angerstein,  Edward  Gwatkin,  Charles  Burney,  John 
Hunter,  William  Cruikshank,  and  John  Devaynes, 
Esqrs.  together  with  Colonel  Gwynn,  Captain  Pole, 
Mr.  Kemble,  Br.  Lawrence,  Mr.  Alderman  Boydell, 
Messrs.  Poggi,  Breda,  &c.  &c.  &c. 

This  company  was  conveyed  in  forty-two  mourning 
coaches,  whilst  forty-nine  coaches  belonging  to  the 
nobility  and  gentry,  followed  the  procession. 

The  statement  of  which  I  have  spoken,  goes  on  to 
detail  that  at  half  past  three  o'clock  was  interred  the 
body  of  "  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Knt.  Doctor  of  Law  s 
in  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Dublin,  Principal 
Painter  to  his  Majesty,  President  of  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Painting,  Sculpture  and  Architecture,  of 
London,  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  Fellow  of  the 
Society  of  Antiquaries,  and  Member  of  the  Imperial 
Academy  at  Florence." 

The  spot  selected  for  the  grave  was  in  the  crypt 
nnderneatli  the  body  of  the  Cathedral,  next  to  that  of 
Dr.  Newton,  late  Bishop  of  Bristol, ''  and  close  by  the 
tomb  of  the  famous  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  the  archi- 
tect of  that  edifice." 

On  this  solemn  occasion  it  was  still  some  consola- 
tion to  reflect,  that  the  company  who  attended  it  con- 
sisted of  a  great  number  of  the  most  distinguished 
persons,  who  were  emulous  in  their  desire  of  paying 
their  last  honours  to  the  remains  of  him  whose  life  had 


303  MEMOIRS  OF 

been  employed  in  the  exertions  of  the  highest  talents, 
and  in  the  exercise;  of  those  virtues  that  make  a  man 
respectable  and  beloved. 

Never  was  a  pul)lic  solemnity  conducted  with  more 
decorum  and  dignity.  The  procession  set  out  at  half 
an  hour  after  twelve  o'clock.  The  hearse  arrived  at 
the  Western  gate  of  St.  Paul's  about  a  quarter  after 
two,  and  was  there  met  by  the  Dignitaries  of  the 
church,  and  by  the  gentlemen  of  the  choir,  who 
chaunted  the  proper  Psalms,  while  the  procession 
moved  to  the  entrance  of  the  choir,  where  was  per- 
formed, in  a  superior  manner,  the  full  choir  evening 
service,  together  with  the  famous  anthem  of  Dr. 
Boyce;  the  body  remaining  during  the  whole  time  in 
the  centre  of  the  choir.  The  chief  mourner  and  gentle- 
men of  the  Academy,  having  long  cloaks  of  black,  as 
of  the  family,  were  placed  by  the  body ;  the  chief 
mourner  in  a  chair  at  the  head;  the  two  attendants  at 
the  feet;  the  Pall-bearers  and  Executors  in  the  seats 
on  the  decanel  side;  the  other  noblemen  and  gentle- 
men on  the  cantorial  side.  The  Bishop  of  London 
was  in  his  proper  place,  as  were  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
Sheriffs. 

"  After  t!ie  service,  the  body  was  conveyed  into  the 
crypt,  and  placed  immediately  beneath  the  perforated 
brass  plate,  under  the  centre  of  the  dome.  Dr.  Jef- 
feries.  Canon  Residentiary,  with  the  other  Canons,  and 
the  whole  choir,  came  under  the  dome;  the  grave 
digger  attending  in  the  middle  with  a  shovel  of  mould, 
which  at  the  proper  time  was  thrown  through  the 
aperture  of  the  plate,  on  the  coflBn.  The  funeral 
service  was  chaunted,  and  accompanied  on  the  organ 
in  a  grand  and  affecting  manner.  When  the  funeral 
service  was  ended,  the  Chief  Mourner  and  Executors 
went  into  the  crypt,  and  attended  the  corpse  to  the 
grave,  which  was  dug  under  the  pavement. 

The  Lord  Mayor  and  Sheriffs  honoured  the  pro- 
cesssion  by  coming  to  Somerset  Place,  where  an  offi- 
cer's guard  of  thirty  men  was  placed  at  the  great 
court-gate.   After  the  procession  had  passed  through 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  3O3 

Temple  Bar,  the  gates  were  shut  by  order  of  the  Lord 
Mayor,  to  prevent  any  interruption  from  carria^'-es 
passing  to  or  from  the  City." 

After  the  ceremony,  the  Procession  returned  in 
nearly  the  same  order  to  the  Royal  Academy;  and  I 
may  here  mention,  that  it  contained  as  many  members, 
of  the  "  Literary  Club,"  as  were  not  prevented  by 
personal  duties  from  attending  it.  It  has  also  been 
noticed,  as  worthy  of  record,  that  in  the  procession 
were  three  Knights  of  the  Garter,  two  of  St.  Patrick, 
and  one  of  the  Thistle,  three  Dukes,  and  four  noble- 
men who  had  held  the  high  office  of  Viceroy  of 
Ireland. 

A  cold  collation  having  been  prepared  for  tlie  mem- 
bers of  Royal  Academy,  on  their  return  to  Somerset 
Place,  Mr.  Burke  entered  the  room  to  return  the 
thanks  of  the  family  for  the  attention  shewn  to  the  re- 
mains of  their  lamented  President;  but  his  feelings 
were  too  acute  to  permit  him  to  utter  the  sentiments 
he  wished  to  express. 

^'  Thus,"  says  a  recent  panegyrist,  "  thus  were 
deposited  the  remains  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  doubly 
hallowed  by  a  nation's  respect,  and  by  the  tears  of 
private  friendship — and  thus  ends  all  that  is  eartlily 
and  perishable  of  him  whose  fame  as  an  artist,  as  a 
patronizer  of  the  arts,  and  above  all,  as  a  good  man, 
will  long  survive  him !" 

As  a  token  of  respect  and  a  pledge  of  remembrance, 
a  print  engraved  by  Bartolozzi,  was  presented  to  each 
of  the  gentlemen  who  had  joined  the  procession. 

It  represented  a  female  clasping  an  urn,  a  funeral 
emblem  of  a  weeping  muse,  (from  the  pencil  of  Bur- 
ney)  and  on  the  monument  are  a  pallet,  pencils,  and 
a  resting  stick.  The  Genius  of  Painting  is  also 
introduced,  holding  an  inverted  and  extingtiished 
torch,  and  pointing  out  to  the  monument,  on  which  U 
written, 

"  Succedet  fama,  vivusque  perora  feretur." 


so*  MEMOIRS  OF 

Beneath  is  a  conipliineutary  address :  and  a  fac 
simile  of  the  whole  will  be  found  at  the  close  of  these 
Memoirs.  The  funeral  expenses  were  in  part  defray- 
ed out  of  the  funds  of  the  Koyal  Academy. 

The  last  will  and  testament  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
liad  been  written  not  very  long  previous  to  his 
decease,  being  dated  on  the  5th  of  November,  1791. 

He  had  wiitten  it  with  his  own  hand,  and  its  be- 
ginning M  as  extremely  expressive  of  his  own  feelings 
and  sentiments  on  the  subject,  for  he  says, 

"  As  it  is  probable  that  I  may  shortly  be  deprived 
of  sight,  and  may  not  have  an  opportunity  of  making 
a  formal  will,  I  desire  that  the  following  memoran- 
dums may  be  considered  as  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment. 

*'■  I  commend  my  soul  to  God,  in  humble  hopes  of 
his  mercy,  and  my  body  to  the  earth."' 

All  his  property,  real  and  personal,  with  the  ex- 
ceptions here  recorded,  he  then  bequeaths  to  his  niece 
Miss  Palmer,  now  Marchioness  of  Thomond,  in- 
cluding his  Richmond  Villa,  the  house  in  Leicester- 
fields,  together  with  all  property  in  the  public  funds, 
pictures,  books,  furniture,  plate,  &c. 

He  then  proceeds  to  specify  his  various  legacies : 
viz.,  to  IVIrs.  Gwatkins,  10,000/  in  the  three  per 
cents. ;  to  his  sister.  Miss  Frances  Reynolds,  2,500/ 
in  the  funds  for  life,  with  the  reversion  to  Miss 
Palmer;  to  Mr.  Burke,  2,000?,  with  the  cancelling  of 
a  bond  of  the  same  amount  for  money  borrowed ;  to 
the  Earl  of  Upper  Ossory,  the  first  choice,  and  to 
Lord  Palmerstone  the  second  choice  of  any  picture  of 
his  own  painting;  to  Sir  Abraham  Hume,  Bart,  the 
choice  of  his  Claude  Lorraines;  to  Sir  George  Beau- 
mont, Bart,  the  ^*  Return  of  the  Ark,''  by  Sebastian 
Bourdon;  the  sum  of  200Z  each  to  his  executors,  and 
the  same  to  Mr.  Boswell,  to  be  expended,  if  they 
thought  proper,  in  the  purchase  of  a  picture,  to  be 
bought  for  each  at  the  sale  of  his  paintings,  and  to  be 
kept  for  his  sake;  his  miniature  of  Milton>  to  Mr. 
Mason ;  one  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  by  the  same  artist, 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  30g 

{Cooper)  to  Richard  Burke, Jan.;  his  watch  and  seals 
to  his  nephew,  AVilliam  Johnson,  then  at  Calcutta; 
his  picture  of  the  Angel  Contemplation,  which  formed 
the  upper  part  of  the  Nativity,  to  the  Duke  of  Port- 
land ;  to  Mrs,  Bunbury,  the  portrait  of  her  son ;  to 
Mrs.  Gwyn,  her  own  portrait,  with  a  turban;  1,000^ 
to  his  old  and  faithful  servant,  Ralph  Kirkley,  wlio 
had  lived  with  him  upwards  of  tliirty  years. 

This  is  the  principal  purport  of  his  will,  which  was 
proved  in  Doctor's-Commonson  the  SSth  of  February ; 
and  the  whole  amount  of  cash  and  funded  property 
was,  at  least,  60,000/,  Avhilst  the  liouses,  pictures,  &c., 
were  valued  at  20,000/  more :  a  sum  that  fully  proves 
the  high  estimation  in  which  he  had  professionally 
been  held,  particularly  when  we  consider  the  liberal 
and  hospitable  manner  in  which  the  greatest  part  of 
his  life  had  been  spent. 

Completely  to  fill  up  the  vacancy  which  the  loss  of 
such  a  man  produced  in  society,  was  impossible;  Dr. 
Douglas,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  was  selected  to  occupy 
his  scat  in  tiie  Literary  Club ;  Mr.  Laurence  as  prin- 
cipal  painter  in  ordinary  to  his  Majesty;  and  Mr. 
West,  the  present  President  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
was  unanimously  elected  to  fill  the  chair  at  Somerset- 
place,  on  the  24th  of  March ;  on  which  occasion  ho 
united  a  handsome  tribute  of  praise  towards  his 
deceased  friend  and  predecessor,  with  his  expression 
of  thanks  for  the  honor  conferred  on  him. 

On  tbe  death  of  Sir  Joshua,  even  those  whose  liClle 
jealousies  had  contributed  to  give  him  some  uneasiness 
whilst  living,  all  stood  forward  to  make  amends  by 
the  warmest  commendations ;  amongst  the  rest  wa» 
Mr.  Barry,  wiio  now  gave  a  full  scope  to  his  more 
gtncrous  feelings,  and  about  a  year  after\Yards,  on 
the  IStli  of  February,  1/93,  paid  some  very  well 
deserved  compliments  to  his  friend  in  his  sixth  Lecture 
read  at  the  Academy.* 

*  See  Ban-ys  works,  vol.  i.  pages  552  to  557 . 


303  MEMOIRS  OF 

This  just  tribute  to  tlie  memory  of  Sir  Joshua,  was 
noticed  by  tlie  Marquis  and  Marchioness  of  i  honiond, 
who,  in  order  to  mark  their  approval,  presented  him 
with  their  estimable  relative's  painting-room  chair. 
I  have  preserved  his  answer,  from  its  connection  with 
the  present  itself,  and  its  containing  an  appropriate 
compiiinent  to  the  former  lamented  possessor.  '^  Mr. 
Barry  presents  his  most  respectful  compliments  to 
Lord  and  Larly  T.  with  every  acknowledgment  and 
thanks  for  their  inestimable  favour  conferred  on  him 
this  morning  in  the  gift  of  Sir  Joshua's  chair. 

'•  Alas !  this  chair,  that  had  such  a  glorious  career 
of  fortune,  instrumental  as  it  has  been  in  giving  the 
most  a  Ivantageous  stability  to  the  otherwise  fleeting, 
perishable  graces  of  a  Lady  Sarah  Bunbury,  or  a 
Waldegrave,  or  in  perpetuating  the  negligent  honest 
exterior  of  the  authors  of  the  Rambler,  the  Traveller, 
and  almost  every  one  to  whom  the  public  admiration 
gave  a  currency  for  abilities,  beauty,  rank,  or  fashion. 

*'  The  very  chair  that  is  immortalized  in  Mrs. 
Siddon's  Tragic  Muse,  where  it  will  have  as  much 
celebrity  as  the  chair  of  Pindar,  which  for  so  many 
ages  was  shewn  in  the  porch  atOlympia!  This  chair 
of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  may  rest  well  satisfied  with 
the  reputation  it  has  gained,  and  although  its  present 
possessor  may  not  be  enabled  to  grace  it  with  any 
new  ornament,  yet  it  can  surely  count  upon  finding  a 
most  affectionate,  reverential  conservator,  whilst  God 
shall  permit  it  to  remain  under  his  care."  January 
30ti),  179i. 

Some  time  after  the  funeral,  a  copy  of  verses  were 
addressed  to  the  Royal  Academicians,  written  by  the 
beautiful  Mrs.  Robinson,  whicii  possess  considerable 
merit,  but  are.  however,  too  long  for  insertion ;  there- 
fore, I  shall  make  an  extract  of  those  lines  only  which 
apply  to  the  particular  merits  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

"  Ye  solemn  mourners,  who,  with  footsteps  slow. 
Prolonged  the  sable  line  of  public  woe; 


vSIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  307 

Who  fondly  crowding  round  his  plumed  l)ier, 
Gave  to  his  worth,  th'  involuntary  tear; 
Ye  children  of  his  school,  who  oft  have  hung 
On  the  grac'd  precepts  of  his  tuneful  tongue; 
Who  many  an  hour  in  mute  attention  caught 
Tire  vivid  lustre  of  his  polished  thought! 
Ye  who  have  felt,  for  ye  have  taste  to  feel, 
The  magic  influence  o'er  your  senses  steal, 
When  eloquently  chaste,  from  wisdom's  page 
He  drew  each  model  for  a  rising  agS ! 
Say,  is  no  kind,  no  grateful  tribute  due. 
To  HIM  who  twin'd  immortal  wreaths  for  you  ? 
Who  from  the  dawn  of  youth  to  manhood's  prime 
Snatch'd  hidden  beauties  from  the  wings  of  time; 
Who  gave  new  lustre  to  your  wond'riiig  sight, 
Drawn  from  the  chaos  of  oblivious  night; 
Where  chain'd  by  Ignorance,  in  Envy's  cave, 
The  art  he  courted  found  a  chilling  grave; 
Where  native  genius  faded,  unadmired, 
While  emulation's  glorious  flame  expir'd. 
Till  Reynolds,  braving  Envy's  recreant  spell, 
Dragg'd  the  huge  monster  from  her  thorny  cell, 
Who,  shrinking  from  his  mild  benignant  eye. 
Subdued,  to  Stygian  darkness  fled to  die. 

Beneath  yon  lofty  dome  that  props  the  skies 
Low  '  on  the  lap  of  earth'  your  patron  lies; 
Cold  is  the  hand  that  gave  the  touch  divine,  > 
Which  bade  the  mimic  orbs  of  reason  shine : 
Closed  is  that  eye  which  beam'd  with  living  light, 
That  gave  the  mental  soul,  to  mortal  sight  I 
For,  by  the  matchless  wonders  of  his  art 
The- outward  mien  bespoke  the  hidden  heart! 
Taste,  feeling,  character,  his  pencil  knew, 
And  TRUTH  acknowledged  e'en  what  Fancy  drew. 
So,  just  to  nature  ev'ry  part  combin'd, 
Ea.ch  feature  mark'd  the  tenor  of  the  mind! 
'Twas  his  with  varying  excellence  to  show 
Stern  manhood's  dignity  and  beauty's  glow! 
To  paint  the  perfect  form,  the  witching  face. 
With  Guido's  softness,  and  with  Titian's  grace! 
The  dimpled  cherub  at  the  mother's  breast, 
The  smile  serene,  that  spoke  the  parent  blest! 
The  Poet's  vivid  thought,  that  shone  divine 
Through  the  rich  image  of  each  finish'd  line! 
The  tale  that  bids  the  tear  of  pity  flow ; 
The  frenzied  gaze  of  petrifying  woe; 

S  R 


308  MPLMOIRS  OF 

The  dying;  fallier,  fix'd  in  honor  wilil, 
O'er  (he  shrunk  image  of  his  famish'd  child. 

Ah  !  STAY  MY  MusF, — ttor  trace  the  madd'ning  scene, 

Nor  paint  the  starting  eye,  the  frantic  mien  ; 

Turn  from  the  pirture  of  distracting  woes, 

'i'lirn  from  eacli  charm  that  beauty's  smile  bestows, 

Go  form  a  wreath  Time's  temple  to  adorn, 

Bedeck'd  with  many  a  rose — with  many  a  thorn  '. 

(io,  bind  the  hero's  brow  with  deathless  bays  , 

Or,  to  calm  friend-hip  chaunt  the  note  of  praise: 

Or,  with  a  feather  stol'n  from  Fancy's  wing. 

Sweep  with  light  hand  the  "ay  fantastic  string  ; 

But  leave,  oh,  leave  thy  fond  lamenting  song, 

The  feeble  echo  of  a  wond'i ing  throng — 

Cans't  thou  with  briiihter  tints  adorn  the  rose, 

Where  nature's  vivid  blush  divinely  glows? 

Say  cans't  ihou  add  one  ray  to  hea\eu's  own  light, 

Or  give  to  Alpine  snow  a  purer  white? 

Cans't  thou  increase  the  diamond's  burning  glow, 

Or  to  the  flower  a  richer  scent  bestow? 

bay  cans't  thou  snatch,  by  sympathy  sublime, 

One  kindred  bosom  from  the  grasp  of  Time  ? 

Ah!  no!  then  bend  with  cypress  boughs  thy  lyre, 

Mute  be  its  chords,  and  quench'd  its  sacred  nre. 

For  dimly  gleams  the  poet's  votive  lays 

Midst  the  vast  splendor  of  a  nation's  praise." 

To  sura  up  the  whole  of  Sir  Joshua's  character  as 
a  professional  man,  it  may  be  observed  that  when  we 
contemplate  him  as  a  painter,  we  are  to  recollect,  that 
after  the  death  of  Kneller,  the  arts  in  England  fell  to 
the  lowest  state  of  barbarism,  and  each  professor 
either  followed  that  painter's  steps,  or  else  wandered 
in  utter  darkness,  till  Reynolds,  like  the  sun,  dis- 
pelled the  mist,  and  threw  an  unprecedented  splendor 
on  the  department  of  portraiture.  Hence  the  English 
?>chool  is,  in  a  great  degree,  the  growth  of  his  admira- 
ble example. 

To  the  grandeur,  the  truth,  and  simplicity  of  Titian, 
and  to  the  daring  strength  of  Rembrandt,  he  has 
united  the  chasteness  and  delicacy  of  Vandyke.  De- 
lighted with  tlie  picturesque  beauties  of  Rubens,  he 
Mas  the  first  that  attempted  a  bright  and  gay  back 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  309 

ground  to  portraits;  and  defying  the  dull  and  ignorant 
rules  of  his  master,  at  a  very  early  perioil  of  life, 
emancipated  his  art  from  the  shackles  with  which  it 
had  been  encumbered  in  the  school  of  Hudson.  There 
is,  however,  every  reason  to  believe,  that  he  very 
rarely  copied  an  entire  picture  of  any  master,*  thougli 
he  certainly  did  imitate  the  excellent  parts  of  many; 
and  his  versatility  in  this  respect  was  etpialled  only 
by  the  susceptibility  of  his  feelings,  tlie  quickness  of 
his  comprehension,  and  the  ardor  which  prompted  his 
efforts.  His  pictures  in  general  possess  a  degree  of 
merit  superior  to  mere  portraits,  they  assuuie  tlie  rank 
of  history.  His  portraits  of  men  are  distinguished  by 
a  certain  air  of  dignity,  and  those  of  women  and 
children  by  a  grace,  a  beauty,  and  simplicity,  which 
have  seldom  been  equalled,  and  never  surpassed.  jNo 
painter  ever  gave  so  completely,  as  himself,  that 
momentary  facinating  expression,  that  irresistible 
charm,  which  accompanies  and  denotes  "  the  Cynthia 
of  the  minute."  In  his  attempts  to  give  character 
where  it  did  not  exist,  he  has  sometimes  lost  likeness ; 
but  the  deficiencies  of  the  portrait  were  often  com- 
pensated by  the  beauty  of  the  picture. 

The  attitudes  of  his  figures  are  generally  full  of 
grace,  ease,  and  propriety;  he  could  throw  them  into 
the  boldest  variations,  and  he  often  ventures  on 
postures,  which  inferior  painters  could  not  execute; 
or  which,  if  attempted,  would  inevitably  destroy  their 
credit.  His  chief  aim,  however,  was  culoar  and  effect; 
and  these  he  always  varied  as  the  subject  required. 
Whatever  deficiencies  there  may  be  in  the  design  of 
this  great  master,  no  one  at  any  period  better  uuder- 

*  Of  the  few  copies  he  made  at  Rome  the  only  finished  one 
is  St.  Michael,  the  Archangel,  chaining  the  dragon,  after  Guido. 
This  copy  he  placed  ui  the  ceiling  of  his  Picture  Gallery,  where 
it  remained  till  his  death.  It  was  then  taken  down  by  his  niece, 
and  heiress,  when  she  left  that  house. 

He  made  a  small  copy  ofthe  School  of  Athens,  from  Raffaelle; 
also  about  eight  or  ten  heads  selected  from  RaBaeile  in  the 
Vatican,  and  a  head  or  two  from  Titian. 


310  MEMOIRS  OF 

stood  the  principles  of  colouring:  nor  can  it  be  doubted 
that  he  carried  this  branch  of  his  art  to  a  very  high 
degree  of  perfection.  His  lights  display  the  knowledge 
he  possessed,  and  with  shade  he  conceals  his  defects. 
Whether  we  consider  the  power,  the  brilliancy,  or  the 
form  of  liis  lights,  the  transparency  of  his  shadows, 
with  the  just  quantities  of  each,  and  the  harmony, 
richness,  and  full  efl'ect  of  the  whole,  it  is  evident  that 
he  has  not  only  far  transcended  every  modern  master, 
but  that  his  excellencies  in  these  captivating  parts  of 
painting,  vie  with  the  works  of  the  great  models  he 
has  emulated.  The  opinion  he  has  given  of  RaftaeDe 
may,  with  equal  justice,  be  applied  to  himself;  ^^  that 
his  materials  were  generally  borrowed,  but  the  noble 
structure  was  his  own."  No  one  ever  appropriated 
the  ideas  of  others  to  his  own  purpose  with  more  skill 
than  Sir  Joshua.  He  possessed  the  alchemy  of  paint- 
ing, by  converting  whatever  he  touched  into  gold. 
Like  the  bee  that  extracts  sweets  from  the  most 
noxious  flowers,  so  his  active  observation  could  see 
every  thing  pregnant  with  a  means  of  improvement, 
from  tjje  wooden  print  on  a  common  ballad,  to  the 
highest  graces  of  Parmegiano.  Perhaps  there  is  no 
painter  that  ever  went  before  him,  from  whom  he  has 
not  derived  some  advantage,  and  appropriated  certain 
excellencies  with  judicious  selection  and  consummate 
taste.  Yet  after  all  that  can  be  alledged  against  him  as 
a  borrower  of  forms  from  other  masters,  it  must  be  al- 
lowed that  he  engrafted  on  them  beauties  peculiarly  his 
own.  The  severest  critics,  indeed,  must  admit  that  his 
manner  is  truly  original,  bold,  and  free.  Freedom  is 
certainly  one  of  his  principal  characteristics;  and  to 
this  he  seems  often  to  have  sacrificed  every  other  con- 
sideration. He  lias,  however,  two  manners  ;  his  early 
pictures  are  without  those  violent  freedoms  of  execu- 
tion and  dashes  of  the  pencil,  being  more  minute  and 
more  fearful,  but  the  colouring  is  clear,  natural  and 
good.  In  his  latter  and  bolder  works,  the  colour, 
though  excellent,  is  sometimes  more  artificial  than 
rhastc. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  31 1 

As  an  Historical  painter,  he  cannot  be  placeil  in  the 
same  rank  which  he  holds  in  tlie  line  of  portraiture. 
The  compositions  of  his  portraits  are  unqucst}<)nably 
excellent,  whilst  his  historical  pictures  are,  in  tliis 
respect,  often  very  defective.  They  frequently  con- 
sist of  borrowed  parts,  which  are  not  always  suited  to 
each  other.  Though  many  times  inaccurate,  and  de- 
ficient in  the  style  of  drawing,  they  must  however,  be 
allowed  to  possess  great  breadth,  taste,  and  feeling, 
and  many  of  them  fine  expression.  His  light  poetical 
pieces  much  excelled  those  of  a  narrative  or  historical 
character. 

There  is  a  circumstance  contained  in  one  of  liis 
fragments  of  an  intended  discourse,  preserved  by  Mr. 
Malone,  in  which  he  says,  *'  It  has  frequently  Ij^)- 
pened,  as  I  was  informed  by  the  keeper  of  the  Vati- 
can, that  many  of  those  whom  he  had  conducted 
through  the  various  apartments  of  that  edifice,  when 
about  to  be  dismissed,  have  asked  for  the  works  of 
Raifaelle,  and  would  not  believe  that  they  had  al- 
ready passed  through  the  rooms  where  they  are 
preserved  ;  so  little  impression  had  those  performances 
made  on  them.  One  of  the  first  painters  now  in  France 
once  told  me,  that  this  circumstance  happened  to  him- 
self; though  he  now  looks  on  Raffaelle  with  the  ven- 
eration which  he  deserves  from  all  painters  and  lovers 
of  the  art. 

'^  I  remember  very  well  my  own  disappointment, 
when  I  first  visited  tlie  Vatican ;  but  on  confessing  my 
feelings  to  a  brother  student,  of  whose  ingenuousness 
I  had  a  high  opinion,  he  acknowledged  that  the 
works  of  Raffaelle  had  tlie  same  effect  on  him ;  or, 
rather,  that  they  did  not  produce  the  effect  which  he 
expected.  This  was  a  great  relief  to  my  mind  ;  and 
on  enquiring  further,  of  other  students,  I  found  that 
those  persons  only  who,  from  natural  imbecility,  ap- 
peared to  be  incapable  of  ever  relishing  those  divine 
performances,  made  pretensions  to  instantaneous  rap- 
tures on  first  beholding  tiiem.  In  justice  to  myself, 
however,  I  must  add,  that  though  disappointed  and 


313  MEMOIRS  OF 

mortified  at  not  finding  myself  enraptured  with  the 
works  of  this  great  man,  I  did  not  for  a  moment  con- 
ceive or  suppose  that  the  name  of  Raflaelle,  and  those 
admirable  paintings  in  particular,  owed  their  reputa- 
tion to  the  ignorance  and  prejudice  of  mankind;  ou 
the  contrary,  my  not  relishing  them,  as  I  was  con- 
scious I  ought  to  have  done,  was  one  of  the  most 
liumiliating  circumstances  that  ever  happened  to  me ; 
I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  works  executed  upon 
principles  wiih  which  I  was  unacquainted  :  I  felt  my 
ignorance,  and  stood  abashed.  All  the  indigested 
notions  of  painting  which  I  had  brought  with  me 
from  England,  where  the  art  was  in  the  lowest  state 
it  had  ever  been  in,  (it  could  not,  indeed,  be  lower,) 
were  to  be  totally  done  away,  and  eradicated  from  my 
mind.  It  was  necessary,  as  ii  is  expressed  on  a  very 
solemn  occasion,  that  1  should  become  as  a  little  child. 
Notwithstanding  my  disappointment,  I  proceeded  to 
copy  some  of  those  excellent  works.  I  viewed  them 
again  and  again;  I  even  affected  to  feel  their  merit ; 
and  to  admire  them  more  than  I  really  did.  In  a  short 
time  a  new  taste  and  new  perception  began  to  dawn 
upon  rac;  and  I  was  convinced  that  I  had  originally 
formed  a  false  opinion  of  the  perfection  of  art,  and 
that  this  great  painter  was  well  entitled  to  the  high 
rank  w  hicli  he  holds  in  the  estimation  of  the  world. 
The  trutli  is,  that  if  these  works  had  really  been  what 
I  expected,  they  would  have  contained  beauties  super- 
ficial and  alluring,  but  by  no  means  such  as  would 
have  entitled  them  to  the  great  reputation  which  they 
have  so  long  and  so  justly  obtained." 

Considering  the  study  and  practice  Reynolds  must 
have  gone  through  before  he  visited  Italy,  he  certainly 
was,  in  comparison  with  others,  a  man  of  a  cullivated 
taste ;  and,  though  what  has  been  said  may  be  very 
true,  that  many  persons,  after  having  been  conducted 
through  the  rooms  of  the  Vatican,  have  turned  to  the 
keeper,  and  asked  him  for  the  paintings  of  Raffaelle, 
yet  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  how  he,  who  probably 
had  seen  the  cartoons,  and  other  pictures,  besides 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  3I5 

prints  from  this  great  painter,  slutuld  have  formed 
such  an  inadequate,  and  erroneous  idea  of  what  he  was 
to  sec  at  Rome.  Splendor  of  colour,  depth  of  chiaro- 
scuro, he  must  have  been  taugiit  not  to  expect;  strength 
and  dignity  of  character,  unexampled  variety,  and 
vivacity  of  expression,  (qualities  more  striking  to  (lie 
eye  of  taste,  and  scarcely  less  so  to  the  vulg.ir,)  thry 
certainly  possess.  To  what,  then,  can  he  attributed 
their  want  of  impression,  particularly  on  such  as  him? 
It  does  not  appear  that  the  same  complaint  Ik  s  been 
made  of  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo. 

That,  which  in  his  discourses  he  denominates  the 
ornamental  style,  and  which  he  treats  in  liis  writings 
with  so  much  severity,  seems  to  have  been  the  very 
style  which  it  was  his  constant  endeavour  to  attain, 
and  which  it  may  be  said  he  did  attain  in  an  unex- 
ampled degree ;  while  the  excellencies  of  the  grand 
style,  its  severe  and  majestic  simplicity,  he  seems  not 
to  have  been  inclined  to  attempt,  although  so  great  an 
admirer  of  it,  that  even  its  defects  are  deemed  beauties 
in  his  eyes;  whilst  its  dryness  and  hardness  of  man- 
ner, and  an  inharmonious  effect,  frequently  proceeding 
from  a  want  of  skill  in  the  painter,  he  contemplates 
altogether  with  enthusiastic  admiration.  His  theory 
and  his  practice  are  evidenty  at  variance;  he  speaks 
of  the  cold  painters  of  portraits,  and  ranks  them  on  a 
level  with  the  epigrammatist  and  sonnetteer,  yet  de- 
voted his  life  to  portraits.  How  to  account  for  this 
dereliction  of  his  theory  may  be  difficult;  the  reason 
given  by  himself  was,  that  he  adapted  his  style  to  the 
taste  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived  ;  and  again,  that  a 
man  does  not  always  do  what  he  would,  but  what  he 
can. 

My  own  opinion  is,  that  his  mind  by  nature  was 
constituted  more  for  the  cultivation  of  that  which 
belongs  to  the  beautiful  and  the  graceful,  than  of  those 
qualities  which  compose  the  terrible  or  the  sublime, 
and  that  the  style  of  Michael  Angelo  which  he  seems 
to  have  lamented  that  he  did  not  adopt  in  his  youth, 
was  not  that  style  to  which  he  could,  with  most  advan- 


Sil  MEMOIRS  OF 

tage  to  himself,  have  devoted  his  studies;  yet  it  must 
ever  remain  a  doubt,  whether  he  could  or  could  not 
have  succeeded  in  the  highest  style,  if  the  opportunity 
had  been  oflfercd  to  liira.  All  that  we  can  say  of  him 
is,  that  he  had  done  full  enough  to  prove  that  he  was  a 
very  great  genius,  as  he  is  an  example  of  the  most 
perfect  growtli  that  English  culture  can  produce  ;  and 
from  the  means  which  he  had  he  has  accomplished 
tliat  end,  and  availed  himself  of  that  patronage  which 
is  in  the  hands  of  an  infinity  of  persons  to  bestow. 

But  that  great  style,  which  he  so  properly  had 
made  his  idol,  and  appeared  to  adore,  a  style  which 
never  can  exist  in  its  fullness  but  in  countries  where 
the  religion,  or  the  government,  or  both  together,  are 
its  patrons — it  is  an  article  totally  useless  and  unfit  in 
respect  to  the  habits  of  private  life,  and  in  this  country 
held  as  very  disagreeable;  and  had  Rairaelle  or 
Michael  Angelo  been  born  in  England,  they  would, 
perhaps,  have  been  far  greater  than  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  and  most  undoubtedly  would  have  ac- 
quired great  fame;  but  they  would  have  been  known 
only  as  illustrious  portrait  painters  even  to  themselves. 

'J  he  grand  style  is  an  instrument  fit  only  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  government,  civil  or  religious,  and  only 
proper  for  solemn  occasions.  It  is  not  to  be  the  subject 
of  vulgar  criticism ;  it  is  to  command,  to  guide,  and  to 
direct  the  heart,  and  such  are  the  uses  the  church  of 
Rome  have  made  of  it. 

The  lectures  which  he  delivered  at  the  Royal 
Academy  on  the  10th  of  December,  at  first  every  year, 
and  latterl}'^  every  two  years,  are  the  works  which 
chiefly  bestow  on  him  tlie  cliaracter  of  an  estimable 
writer.  In  these  he  treats  his  favourite  art  with  the 
depth  of  a  philosopher,  the  accomplishments  of  a 
scholar,  and  t!ie  accuracy  of  a  critic.  These  were 
designed  to  animate  and  direct  the  students  in  the 
pursuit  of  excellence,  and  indeed  are  replete  with  the 
soundest  instructions,  expressed  in  language  at  once 
natural;,  perspicuous,  and  correct. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  315 

The  profound  knowledge  of  the  art  displayed  in 
these  discourses  is  enriched  by  the  classical  and 
appropriate  illustrations  of  a  polisiied  mind  ;  they  are 
treasures  of  information  to  the  student  and  to  the 
proficient;  and  the  elegance  and  chastity  of  the  style 
have  very  rarely,  if  ever,  been  equalled  by  the  most 
eminent  of  our  writers.  His  observations  on  the 
old  masters  are  equally  just  and  ingenius;  several 
branches  of  the  theory  of  art  are  treated  with  un- 
common judgment  and  ability,  and  the  composition 
throughout  is  strongly  marked  by  the  simplicity  of  his 
own  individual  character  and  manner,  and  totally 
unlike  that  of  any  of  his  literary  friends,  to  wiiofii 
some  idle  critics  have  attributed  tlic  merit  of  those 
discourses.  They  have  been  translated  into  French, 
and  the  late  Mr.  Barretti  published  an  edition  of  them 
in  the  Italian  language. 

It  has  been  conjectured  that  Sir  Joshua  was  not 
the  author  of  the  discourses  which  he  delivered  at  the 
Royal  Academy. 

I  can  only  say  that  at  the  periods  when  it  was 
expected  he  should  have  composed  them,  I  have 
heard  him  walking  at  intervals  in  his  room  as  if  in 
meditation,  till  one  or  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  have  on  the  following  morning,  at  an  early 
hour,  seen  the  papers  on  the  subject  of  his  art 
which  had  been  written  on  the  preceding  night.  I 
have  had  the  rude  manuscript  from  himself  in  his  own 
hand  writing,  in  order  to  make  a  fiiir  copy  from  it 
for  him,  to  read  it  in  public;  I  have  seen  the  manu- 
script also  after  it  had  been  revised  by  Dr.  Joluison, 
who  has  sometimes  altered  it  to  a  wrong  meaning, 
from  his  total  ignorance  of  the  subject  and  of  art;  but 
never  to  my  knowledge  saw  the  marks  of  Burke's  pen 
on  any  of  the  manuscripts. 

I  remember  one  day  in  particular,  after  Sir  Je^ia 
had  been  studying  the  preceding  night,  Burke  paid 
him  a  morning  visit,  and  at  that  time  I  was  at  work 
in  the  adjoining  room,  and  could  easily  overhear  their 
conversation,  which;  as  Sir  Joshua  was  deaf,  was 

Tt 


316  MEMOIRS  OF 

very  distinct;  and  lie  read  aloud   to  Buike  tlie  fol- 
lowing paragraph  of  liis  discourse  for  December  the 

lotii,  179 1. 

"  Like  a  sovereign  judge  and  arbiter  of  art,"  (al- 
luding to  the  painter,)  ''  lie  is  possessed  of  that  pre- 
siding power  which  separates  and  attracts  every  ex- 
cellence from  every  school ;  selects  both  from  w  hat  is 
great  and  what  is  little,  brings  home  knowledge  from 
the  east  and  from  the  west ;  making  the  universe 
tributary  tow  ards  furnishing  his  mind  and  enriching 
Lis  works  with  originality  and  variety  of  invention." 

Burke  commended  it  in  tlie  higliest  terms  saying, 
^'  This  is,  indeed,  excellent,  nobody  can  mend  it,  no 
man  could  say  it  better.*' 

Yet,  I  mast  confess,  it  is  wonderful,  that  a  man, 
whose  time  was  so  entirely  absorbed  in  the  practical 
acquirements  of  his  art,  and  who  could  not  be  ranked 
as  a  man  eminent  for  literature,  should  compose  such 
prose  as  good  judges  have  pronounced  to  be  amongst 
the  highest  examples  in  our  language. 

The  Bishop  of  Rochester,  who  has  examined  the 
writings  of  Mr.  Burke  since  his  death,  and  has  lately 
edited  a  part  of  them,  informed  a  friend  that  he  could 
discover  no  reason  to  think  that  Mr.  Burke  had  the 
least  hand  in  the  discourses  of  Reynolds :  nor  can  I 
pay  any  attention  to  what  Mr.  Courtenay  says  in  his 
^'  Moral  and  Literary  Character  of  Dr.  Johnson," 
where  he  seems  to  think  that  Reynolds  copied  from 
the  latter,  or  imitated  him. 

"  To  Fame's  proud  cliff,  he  bade  onr  RafFaelle  rise, 
Hence  Reynolds'  pen  with  Reynolds'  pencil  vies." 

Mr.  M*Cormick  also  asserts,  that  Burke  wrote  his 
letter  in  J 790,  when  he  retired  from  the  chair;  but  I 
trust  there  is  sufficient  evidence  already  adduced,  to 
prove  that  those  opinions  are  totally  erroneous. 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  317 


EXTRACT  OF  A  LETTER  FROM  E.  BURKE, 
TO  MR.  MALOXE. 

'^  I  have  read  over  some  part  of  the  discoiuses  with 
an  unusual  sort  of  pleasure;  partly  because,  beins; 
faded  a  little  in  my  memory,  they  have  a  sort  of  ap- 
pearance of  novelty;  partly  by  reviving  reeollection* 
mixed  with  melanclioly  and  satisfaction.  The  Flemish 
Journal  I  had  never  seen  before.  You  trace  in  tiiat, 
every  where,  the  spirit  of  the  discourses,  supported  by 
new  examples.  He  is  always  the  same  man ;  the 
same  philosophical,  the  same  artist-like  critic,  the 
same  sagacious  observer,  with  tlie  same  minuteness, 
without  the  smallest  degree  of  trifling." 

Before  I  quit  tlie  subject  of  these  discourses  of  Sir 
Joshua,  I  cannot  refrain  from  giving  the  opinion  of  the 
Chevalier  Mengs  on  them,  whether  because  he  had 
not  the  capacity  to  compreliend  them,  or  from  the 
effect  of  envy  I  cannot  determine,  but  this  Alengs 
gays,  "  That  the  book  of  the  English  Reynolds  would 
lead  youth  into  error,  because  it  abandons  them  to 
superficial  principles,  the  only  ones  known  to  that 
author." 

This  criticism  from  Mengs  raised  the  choler  of 
our  English  poet,  Cumberland,  and  he  thus  retorts  the 
charge  to  the  great  annoyance  of  the  Chevalier  Don 
Joseph  Nicholas  D'Azara,  Spanish  minister  at  Rome, 
and  the  Editor  of  Menge's  manuscripts,  also  Ids 
adorer. 

"  If  the  genius  of  Mengs,"  says  Cumberland, 
*^  had  been  capable  of  producing  a  composition  equal 
to  that  of  the  tragic  and  pathetic  Ugolino,  I  am  per- 
suaded such  a  sentence  as  the  above  would  never  iiave 
passed  his  lips  ;  but  flattery  made  him  vain,  and 
sickness  rendered  him  peevish:  he  found  himself  in 
Madrid,  in  a  country  without  rivals,  and  because  the 
Arts  had  travelled  out  of  his  sight,  he  was  disposed 
to  think  they  existed  no  where  but  on  his  own  palette. 
The  time  perhaps  is  at  hand  when  our  virtuosi  will 


318  MEMOIRS  OF 

extend  their  route  to  Spain,  and  of  these  some  one 
probably  will  be  found,  wlio,  regarding  with  just  in- 
dignation the  dogmatical  decrees  of  Alengs,  will  take 
ill  hand  the  examination  of  his  paintings,  which  I 
have  enumerated:  and  we  may  then  be  told,  with  the 
authority  of  science,  that  his  nativity  though  so  splen- 
didly encased,  and  covered  with  such  care  that  the 
very  winds  of  Heaven  are  not  permitted  to  visit  the 
face  too  rouglily,  would  have  owed  more  to  the 
chrystal  than  it  does,  in  some  parts- at  least,  had  it 
been  less  transparent  than  it  is;  that  it  discovers  an 
abortive  and  puisne  Bambino,  which  seems  copied 
from  a  bottle;  that  Mengs  was  an  artist  who  had  seen 
much,  and  invented  little  ;  that  he  dispenses  neither 
life  nor  death  to  his  figures ;  excites  no  terror,  rouses 
no  passions,  and  risks  no  iiights  ;  that  by  studying  to 
avoid  particular  delects,  he  incurs  general  ones,  and 
paints  with  tameuess  and  servility;  that  the  contrasted 
scale  and  idea  of  a  painter  of  miniatures,  as  which  he 
was  brought  up,  is  to  be  traced  in  all,  or  most  of  his 
compositions,  in  which  a  finished  delicacy  of  the 
pencil  exhibits  the  hand  of  the  artist,  but  gives  no 
emanations  of  the  soul  of  the  master ;  if  it  is  beauty  it 
does  not  warm  :  if  it  is  sorrow  it  excites  no  pity  :  that, 
when  the  angel  announces  the  salutation  to  Mary,  it 
is  a  messenger  tliat  has  neither  used  dispatch  in  the 
errand,  nor  grace  in  the  delivery  :  that  although 
Rubens  was  by  one  of  his  orjicular  sayings  con- 
demned to  the  ignominious  dullness  of  a  Dutch  trans- 
lator, Mengs  was  as  capable  of  painting  llubens's 
adoration,  as  he  was  of  creatius;  the  star  in  the  East 
that  ushered  the  Magi  :  but  these  are  questions  above 
my  capacity ;  I  resign  Mengs  to  abler  critics,  and 
Reynolds  to  better  defenders  ;  well  contented  that 
posterity  should  admire  them  both,  and  well  assured 
that  the  fame  of  our  countryman  is  established  beyond 
the  reach  of  envy  and  detraction.*' 

I  have  given  this  long  quotation  from  Cumberland, 
because  in  m^'  apprehension  it  contains  a  true  and 
candid  estimate  of  the  talents  of  Mengs,  of  him  who 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  3I9 

treats  the  works  of  Rubens  and  of  Reynolds  with 
contempt.  Cumberland  thus  adds,  "  Yet  Meni^s  is 
the  author  whom  courtly  prejudice  has  put  above  com- 
parison in  Spain,  whom  not  to  admire  is  treason 
against  the  state,  and  whose  worship  is  become 
canonical,  a  part  almost  of  the  orthodox  idolatry  of 
their  religion." 

With  respect  to  his  character  as  a  man,  to  say  that 
Sir  Joshua  was  without  faults,  would  be  to  bestow  on 
him  that  praise,  to  which  no  human  being  can  have  a 
claim;  but  when  we  consider  the  conspicuous  situa- 
tion in  which  he  stood,  it  is  surprizing  to  find  that  so 
few  can  be  discovered  in  him:  and  certainly  he  pos- 
sessed an  equanimity  of  disposition  very  rarely  to  be 
niet  with  in  persons  whose  pursuit  is  universal  reputa- 
tion, and  who  are  attended  and  surrounded  in  their 
perilous  journey  by  jealous  competition.  **  His  native 
humility,  modesty,  and  candour  never  forsook  him, 
even  from  suprize  or  provocation,  nor  was  the  least 
degree  of  arrogance  or  assumption  visible  to  the  most 
scrutinizing  eye  in  any  part  of  his  conduct."  He  was 
not  annoyed  by  that  fluctuation  of  idea  and  incon- 
stancy of  temper  which  prevent  many  with  equal 
desire  for  fame  from  resolving  upon  any  particular 
plan,  and  dispose  them  to  change  it,  even  after  tliey 
have  made  their  election.  He  had  none  of  those 
eccentric  bursts  of  action,  those  fiery  impetuosities 
which  are  supposed  by  the  vulgar  to  characterize 
genius,  and  which  frequently  are  found  to  accompany 
a  secondary  rank  of  talent,  but  are  never  conjoined 
with  the  first.  His  incessant  industry  was  never 
wearied  into  despondency  by  miscarriage,  nor  elated 
into  negligence  by  success.  All  nature  and  all  art 
combined  to  form  his  academy.  His  mind  was  con- 
stantly awake,  ever  on  the  wiug,  comprehensive, 
vigorous,  discriminating,  and  retentive.  His  powers 
of  attention  were  never  torpid.  He  had  a  strong  turn 
and  relish  for  humour  in  all  its  various  forms,  and 
very  quickly  saw  the  weak  sides  of  things.  01"  the 
numerous  characters  which  presented  themselves  to 


320  MEMOIRS  OF 

liim  in  the  mixed  companies  in  which  he  lived,  he 
was  a  nice  and  sagacious  observer,  as  I  have  had 
frequent  occasions  to  remark. 

"  The  Graces,"  says  a  certain  author,  "  after 
wandering  to  find  a  home,  settled  in  the  bosom  of 
Addison.-'  I  think  such  a  compliment  would  be 
equally,  if  not  more  applicable  to  Sir  Joshua ;  for  all 
he  said  or  did  was  Avholly  unmixed  with  any  of  those 
inelegant  coarsenesses  which  frequently  stain  the 
beauty  of  high  exertions.  There  was  a  polish  even 
in  his  exterior,  illustrative  of  the  gentleman  and  the 
scholar.  His  general  manner,  deportment  and  be- 
haviour, were  amiable  and  prepossessing;  his  dis- 
position  was  naturally  courtly.  He  always  evinced  a 
desire  to  pay  due  respect  to  persons  in  superior 
stations,  and  certainly  contrived  to  move  in  a  higher 
sphere  of  society  than  any  other  English  artist  had 
done  before  him.  Thus  he  procured  for  Professors 
of  the  Arts  a  consequence,  dignity,  and  reception, 
which  they  never  before  possessed  in  this  country. 
In  conversation  he  preserved  an  equable  flow  of  spirits, 
which  had  rendered  him  at  all  times  a  most  desirable 
companion,  ever  ready  to  be  amused,  and  to  con- 
tribute to  the  amusement  of  others.  He  practised  the 
minute  elegancies,  and,  though  latterly  a  deaf  com- 
panion, was  never  troublesome.* 

Although  easy  and  complying  in  his  intercourse 
with  the  world,  yet  in  his  profession,  having,  by  un- 
remitting study,  matured  his  judgment,  he  never 
sacrificed  his  opinion  to  the  casual  caprices  of  his  em- 
ployers, and  without  seeming  to  oppose  theirs,  still 
followed  his  own.  He  had  temper  to  bear  with  the  de- 
fects of  others,  as  well  as  capacity  to  understand  their 
good  qualities,  and  he  possessed  that  rare  wisdom 
which  consists  in  a  thorough  knowledge,  not  only  of 
the  real  value  of  things,  but  of  the  genius  of  the  age 

*  His  deafness,  I  have  been  informed,  first  came  upon  him 
from  a  cold  which  he  caught  by  his  intense  application  in  the 
winter  season;  in  the  unaired  rooms  of  Raftaelle  in  the  Vatican. 


KIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  S2i 

lie  lived  in,  and  of  the  characters  and  prejudices  of 
those  about  him. 

Far  from  over-rating  his  own  talents,  he  did  not 
seem  to  hold  them  in  that  degree  of  estimation  which 
they  deservedly  obtained  froui  the  public.  In  short, 
it  may  be  safely  said,  that  his  faults  were  few,  and 
that  those  were  much  subdued  by  his  wisdom,  for  no 
man  had  ever  more  reverence  for  virtue,  or  a  higher 
respect  for  unsullied  fame. 

As  to  his  person;  in  stature  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
was  rather  under  the  middle  size,  of  a  florid  com- 
plexion, roundish  blunt  features,  and  a  lively  aspect; 
not  corpulent,  though  somewhat  inclined  to  it,  but 
extremely  active;  with  manners  uncommonly  polished 
and  agreeable. 

In  conversation,  his  manner  was  perfectly  natural, 
simple,  and  unassuming.  He  most  heartily  enjoyed 
his  profession,  in  which  he  was  both  fortunate  and 
illustrious,  and  I  agree  with  Mr.  Malone  who  says 
he  appeared  to  him  to  be  the  happiest  man  he  had 
ever  known.  He  was  thoroughly  sensible  of  his  rare 
lot  in  life  and  truly  thankful  for  it ;  his  virtues  were 
blessed  with  their  full  reward. 

It  is  a  common,  but  a  just  observation,  that  virtue 
cannot  exist  where  irregularity  is  present ;  and  the 
converse  is  true  as  applied  to  Sir  Joshua's  mode  of 
life,  which  was  so  regular  as  to  produce  correctness 
without  degenerating  into  insipidity,  or  tediousness  to 
his  friends  by  unnecessary  and  troublesome  precision. 

Rising  at  eight  o'clock  in  general,  he  was  enabled 
to  retire  from  the  breakfast  table  to  his  painting  room 
about  ten,  where,  for  an  hour  at  least,  he  occupied 
himself  in  arranging  the  subordinate  accessories  in 
such  of  his  works  as  he  was  tlien  engaged  in,  or 
perhaps  in  preserving  some  new  ideas  by  a  sketch. 

The  hours  dedicated  to  his  sitters  were  generally 
from  eleven  to  four,  but  not  with  rigid  attention,  as  he 
often  gave  a  relaxation  to  his  mind  by  receiving  the 
visits  of  particular  friends.  Yet  upon  the  whole,  his 
application  was  great,  nay,  in  some  measure,  ex- 


S2?i  mp:moirs  of 

cessivc;  for  it  is  very  true,  as  he  himself  observetl  to 
IVIalone.  that  such  >vas  his  h)vc  «!'  his  art,  ami  such 
his  ardour  to  excel,  tliat  he  liad  often  and  tluriiiii;  the 
greater  part  of  his  life,  laboured  as  hard  with  his 
pencil,  as  any  mechanic  working;  at  his  trade  for 
bread. 

Considering;  (he  hospitable  elea;ance  of  his  own 
table,  and  tiie  number  of  his  friends,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  his  invitations  to  other  tables  were 
pretty  numerous.  Of  these,  however,  he  seldom  ac- 
cepted more  tium  two  in  the  week,  during  the  winter; 
and  though  his  regulated  plan  was  to  have  his  friends 
once  at  home  during  the  same  period,  yet  it  frequently 
happened  that  his  table  was  tilled  much  oftener  by 
the  most  estimable  and  remarkable  men  in  public  life. 
In  such  companies,  intellectual  pleasures  must  be 
considered  as  the  most  important :  yet  neither  he  nor 
liis  friends  disdained  the  good  things  which  affluence 
could  provide,  and  of  course  every  elegance  and  every 
luxury  were  always  to  be  found  there  in  moderation. 

Mr.  Malone  draws  the  comparison  between  the 
character  of  Ltelius  as  given  by  Mr.  Melmoth,  and 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  which  seems  in  many  respects 
to  be  singularly  similar,  but  too  long  for  insertion: 
here  1  shall  only  give  the  concluding  part,  which 
says — 

'»  In  public  estimation,  in  uniform  success  in  life, 
in  moderation,  in  prosperity,  in  the  applause  and 
admiration  of  contemporaries,  in  simplicity  of  manners 
and  playfulness  of  humour,  in  good  sense  and  elegant 
attainments,  in  modesty  and  equability  of  temper,  in 
undeviating  integrity,  in  respect  for  received  and 
long-established  opinions,  in  serenity,  cheerfulness, 
and  urbanity,  the  resemblance  must  be  allowed  to  be 
uncommonly  striking  and  exact." 

As  before  observed,  Sir  Joshua  had  many  pupils 
who  resided  for  years  under  his  roof.  It  is  a  sur- 
prizing fact,  however,  that  scarcely  any  of  their 
names  have  been  heard  of  as  painters.  Most  of  them 
have  pined  in  poverty  and  died  in  want,  miserable  to 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  323 

themselves,  and  a  disgrace  to  the  art.  To  account  for 
this  seeming  paradox  many  reasons  may  he  assigned. 
First,  the  vast  difficulties  of  the  art  of  painting  render 
its  higher  liranches  unattainable  to  nine-tentiis  of 
those  persons  who  profess,  or  pretend  to  study  it: 
Secondly,  Sir  Joshua,  never  having  received  a  well- 
founded  education  in  the  academies  of  art,  was  forced 
to  make  his  own  way  by  the  strength  of  his  genius 
and  unwearied  industry :  hence  those  excellencies 
which  he  possessed  could  not  be  imparted  or  taught 
to  another,  and  what  could  be  taught  he  did  not 
sufficiently  possess,  it  is  art  which  the  scholar  is  to 
learn,  and  not  genius.  Sir  Joshua  seems  to  have 
disdained  the  rules  of  art,  and  may  he  said  to  have 
snatched  a  grace  beyond  them.  But  the  young  painter 
who  daubs  because  he  fancies  Sir  Josiiua  daubed,  is 
like  the  fool  who  purchased  the  lamp  of  Epictetus. 
The  best  reason  that  can  be  assigned  for  his  having  a 
more  enlarged  notion  of  grace  and  gieatness  than  his 
contemporaries  is,  that  he  had  more  information  and 
understanding  than  they.  A  vulgar  man  may  acquire 
what  is  termed  cleverness,  but  cannot  arrive  at  great- 
ness; which  can  only  be  attained  by  him,  who  unites 
general  information  witii  taste  and  feeling. 

Along  with  other  various  tributes  to  the  memory  of 
departed  excellence,  we  must  not  omit  t!je  following 
extract  from  Mr.  Sotheby's  poetical  epistle  to  Sir 
George  Beaumont,  in  which  the  subject  of  our  biog- 
raphy is  so  elegantly  characterized,  and  which  has 
been  published  since  his  death. 

<  Hail !  guide  and  glory  of  the  British  school, 
Whose  magic  line  gave  life  to  every  rule. 
Reynolds!  they  portraits,  true  to  nature,  glow'd 
Yet  o'er  the  whole  iiieal  graces  fiow'd; 
While  forth  to  sight  the  living  likeness  came, 
Souls  touch'd  by  genius,  felt  thy  higher  aim: 
Here,  where  the  public  gaz,e  a  biddons  vie'tvi, 
See  fear  and  pity  crown  the  Tragic  muse. 
There,  girt  with  flames,  where  Calpe  gleams  afar, 
In  dauntless  Heathfield  hail  the  god  of  war. 
u  u 


324  iMEMOlRS  OF 

Painter  of  grace!  Love  gave  to  thee  alone, 
Corregio's  melting  line,  with  Titian's  tone, 
,    Bade  beauty  wear  all  forms  that  breathe  delight, 
And  a  new  charm  in  each  attract  the  sigiit : 
Here  a  wild  Thais  wave  the  blazing  brand, 
There  yield  her  zone  to  Cupid's  treach'rous  hand, 
An  empress  melt  the  pearl  in  Egypt's  bowl, 
Or  a  sly  gypsey  read  the  tell  tale  soul. 
Painter  of  passion  !  horror  in  thy  view 
Pour'd  the  wild  scenes  that  daring  Shakspeare  drew 
AVhen  the  fiend  scowl'd  on  Beaufort's  bed  of  death, 
And  each  weird  hag  'mid  lightnings  hail'd  Macbeth. 

Tiiee  Dante  led  to  Famine's  murky  cave ; 
*'  Round  yon  mute  father  hear  his  children  rave: 
"  Behold  tiiem  stretch'd  beneath  his  stony  eye, 
"  Drop  one  by  one,  and  gaze  on  him,  and  die  ; 
"  So  strain  each  starting  ball  in  sightless  stare, 
"  And  each  grim  feature  fix  in  stern  despair.'* 

No  earth-born  giant  struggling  into  size, 

Stretch'd  in  thy  canvas,  sprawls  before  our  eyes, 

The  mind  applies  its  standard  to  the  scene, 

Notes  with  mute  awe,  the  niore  than  mortal  mien, 

A\  here  boundless  genius  brooding  o'er  the  whole, 

Stamps  e'en  on  babes  sublimity  of  soul. 

Whether,  where  terror  crowns  Jove's  infant  brow, 

Before  tiie  God-head  aw'd  Olympus  bow, 

Or  in  yon  babe,  tir  Herculean  strength  upholds 

Th'  enormous  snakes,  and  slacks  their  length'ning  folds ; 

Or  while,  from  Heav'n,  celestial  Grace  descends, 

Meek  on  his  knees  the  infant  Samuel  bends, 

Lifts  his  clasp'd  hands,  and  as  he  glows  in  prayer. 

Fixes  in  awful  trance  his  eye  on  air. 

Yet  not  fair  forms,  by  Reynolds'  liand  designed. 
No,  nor  his  magic  pen,  that  paints  the  mind ; 
That  pen,  which  erst  on  charm'd  ilyssus'  shore 
Th'  exulting  Graces  to  their  Plato  bore, 
When  Fancy  wove,  for  Trutli,  iier  fairest  flow'rs; 
And  wisdom  commun'd  with  the  Muse's  bow'rs  j 
Not  these  suflice ' 

Little  remains  now  to  add,  only,  that  in  the  year 
^793  that  line  collection  of  pictures  of  the  ancient 
masters,  which  Sir  Joshua  had  so  judiciously  amas- 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.  3^3 

sed,  actually  fetched  the  sum  of  10,319?.  2s.  M. ; 
whilst,  in  the  succeeding  year,  various  historical  and 
fancy  pictures  of  his  own  painting,  accompanied  by 
some  unclaimed  portraits,  were  s«>ld  for  4,505/.  18s. ; 
these  sums  were  independent  of  his  most  valuable 
collection  of  prints  and  drawings,  which  since  that 
have  come  to  the  hammar. 

That  such  a  man  as  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  should 
not  yet  have  had  a  monument  erected  to  his  memory, 
may  seem  a  kind  of  public  disgrace;  I  am  pleased, 
however  to  mention,  that  in  the  early  part  of  1807  his 
friends  and  admirers  came  to  a  determination  to  per- 
form that  duty,  for  which  a  distinguished  place  has 
been  appropriated  liy  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St. 
Paul's,  in  their  Cathedral. 

The  model  has  already  been  exhibited  at  Somerset- 
house,  and  the  monument  is  in  progress  of  execution 
by  Mr.  Flaxman. 

It  may  seem  superfluous  to  present  readers  to  men- 
tion that  in  the  present  year  (1813)  a  Commemora- 
tion of  his  talents  has  been  celebrated  by  the  "  British 
Institution,"  in  which  tliey  have  been  most  liberally 
aided  by  the  patriotic  kindness  of  a  considerable  part  of 
the  possessors  of  specimens  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's 
pencil;  a  most  brilliant  collection  of  his  works  being 
thus  exhibited  at  the  rooms  of  the  institution,  late  the 
Shakspeare  Gallery :  but,  if  this  work  descend  to 
posterity,  though  not  so  lasting  as  his  ftime,  it  may  be 
proper  that  I  should  here  close  these  Memoirs  with 
also  noticing,  that  in  the  room  in  which  the  company 
dined,  at  its  opening — a  dinner  liighly  honoured  by 
the  presence  of  the  Prince  Regent,  numerous  nobility, 
and  eminent  artists — a  small  whole  length  model  of 
this  great  painter  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  room, 
and  accompanied  by  the  following  inscription  from 
the  pen  of  11.  P.  Knight,  Esq. : 


826  MEMOIRS  &c. 

^^  Joshua  Reynolds 

Pictorutn  sui  seculi  facile  principi. 

Et  splendore  ct  comraissuris  ColoruiUj 

Alternis  vicibus  Luminis  et  Umbrae 

Sesc  mutuo  excitantium, 

Vix  uUi  Vetcrum  secundo: 

Quij  cum  summa  artis,  gloria  modeste  uteretur, 

Et  morum  suavitate  et  vitsa  elegantia 

Perinde  commendaretur; 

Artem  etiam  ipsam,  per  orbem  tcrrarum, 

Langueotur  et  prope  inter  mortuam 

Exemplis  egregie  venustis  suscitavit, 

Prseceptis  exquisite  conscriptis  illustravit, 

Atque  emendationera  et  expolitiorera, 

Posteris  exerceudam  tradidit; 

Laudem  ejus  fautores  et  amici 

Hanc  eflfigiem  posucruiit. 

MDCCCXIII. 


To  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 

Confessedly  the  first  artist  of  his  time: 

Scarcely  inferior  to  any  of  tlie  Ancients, 

In  the  splendour  and  combination  of  colours, 

In  the  alternate  succession   of  light  and  shade^ 

Mutually  displaying  each  other: 

Who,  whilst  he  enjoyed  with  modesty  the  first 

lionours  of  his  Art, 

Was  equally  commended 

For  the  suavity  of  his  manners  and  the  elegance 

of  his  mind: 

Who  restored,  by  his  highly  beautiful  models, 

The  Art  itself,  languishing  and  almost  extinguished 

In  every  part  of  the  Avorld ; 

Who  illustrated  it  by  the  admirable  precepts  contained 

In  his  writings, 

And  transmitted  it  in  a  correct  and  refined  state 

To  be  cultivated  by  posterity ; 

The  friends  and  admirers  of  his  Talents 

Have  raised  this  monument. 

1813. 


MEMOIR 


OF 


WILLIAM  GANDY. 


As  there  is  no  record  of  this  William  Gandy  pre- 
served iu  any  manner  but  what  he  has  formed  for 
himself  by  his  pictures,  which  being  without  his  name 
marked  on  them  are  known  but  to  few,  and  thus  will 
soon  be  wholly  unknown,  I  cannot  resist  the  impulse 
of  preserving  the  small  record  which  tradition  gives  of 
him  as  a  just  tribute  to  his  memory  before  it  is  too 
late,  and  thus  be  lost  forever.  This  must  be  an  ex- 
cuse for  the  adding  of  a  subject  which  at  first  sight 
may  seem  unconnected  with  our  present  plan ;  but  will 
have  this  good  eifect^  at  least,  that  by  pointing  him 
out  as  one  admired  both  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and 
Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  (in  whose  time  he  lived)  it  may 
be  the  means  of  preserving  many  of  his  works  which 
otherwise  might  have  been  destroyed  by  those  ignorant 
of  their  merit. 


William  Gandy  was  an  itinerant  painter  in  the 
county  of  Devon,  where  he  lived  and  died ;  but  it  is 
uncertain  whether  he  was  a  native  of  that  county.  He 
was  a  son  of  James  Gandy,  of  whom  Pilkington  in  his 
Dictionary  of  the  Painters  gives  the  following  ac 
count : 


328  MEMOIR  OF 

^'  James  Grandy,  painted  portrait. 
Died  1689,  aged  70. 

"  This  painter,  although  lie  was  a  very  able  artist, 
is  but  little  known  ;  he  Avas  born  in  the  year  1619,  and 
instructed  by  Vandyke,  and  his  works  are  a  sufficient 
proof  of  the  signal  improvement  he  received  from  the 
precepts  and  example  of  that  great  master. 

"  Tlie  cause  of  his  being  so  totally  unknown  was, 
bis  being  brought  into  Ireland  by  the  old  Duke  of 
Ormond,  and  retained  in  his  service ;  and  as  Ireland 
was  at  that  time  in  a  very  unsettled  condition,  the 
merit  and  memory  of  this  master  would  have  been 
entirely  unnoticed,  if  some  of  his  performances,  which 
still  subsist,  had  not  prese/ved  him  from  oblivion. 
There  are  at  this  time  in  Ireland  many  portraits 
painted  by  him  of  noblemen  and  persons  of  fortune, 
which  are  very  little  inferior  to  Vandyke  either  for 
expression,  colouring,  or  dignity;  and  several  of  his 
copies  after  Vandyke,  which  were  in  the  Ormond  col- 
lection at  Kilkenny,  were  sold  for  original  paintings 
of  Vandyke." 

Thus  much  is  related  of  the  father  by  Pilkington, 
who  seems  to  have  known  nothing  of  William  the 
son ;  a  circumstance  not  much  to  be  wondered  at,  as 
William's  little  fame  has  seldom  passed  the  limits  of 
the  county  in  which  he  resided ;  and  where  he  spent 
his  life  in  a  state  of  indigence  most  truly  pitiable,  if  a 
great  part  of  it  did  not  deserve  to  be  considered  as 
much  his  own  fault,  as  his  misfortune. 

He  was  a  man  of  a  most  untractable  disposition, 
very  resentful,  of  unbounded  pride,  and  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life  both  idle  and  luxurious ;  of  which  I 
remember  to  have  heard  many  instances  from  my 
father  who  knew  him,  and  whose  portrait  he  painted 
when  a  child. 

He  was  at  all  times  totally  careless  of  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  painter ;  and  more  particularly  so  if  any 
thing  happened  in  the  course  of  his  business  to  dis- 


WILLIAM  GANDY.  339 

please  Lim.  He  was  once  employed  to  paint  the  por- 
trait of  a  Mr.  John  Vallack,  an  apothecary  of  Ply- 
mouth, who  had  amassed  a  large  fortune  in  that  town ; 
and  as  Gandy  always  attended  at  the  houses  of  his 
employers  to  execute  his  work  (having  no  room  of  his 
own  fit  to  receive  a  sitter)  he  expected,  of  course,  to 
be  invited  to  dinner  (which  was  not  the  least  of  his 
gratifications,)  concluding  he  should  be  well  enter- 
tained by  his  patron ;  but  unfortunately  for  Gaudy,  it 
was  Mr.  Vallack's  custom  to  have  a  certain  fixed 
dinner  for  each  day  of  the  week,  and  by  ill  luck  it 
happened  to  be  a  Saturday  when  tlie  portrait  was 
begun,  and  the  dinner  on  that  day  was  nothing  more 
than  pork  and  peas,  to  the  utter  mortification  and  dis- 
appointment of  the  Artist,  who  at  his  return  to  his 
lodgings  vented  his  rage  in  curses  on  his  employei^'s 
meanness,  and  not  having  good  nature  enough  to  be 
thoroughly  reconciled  to  him  afterwards,  totally  ne- 
glected the  picture.  This  anecdote  is  certified  by  the 
performance  itself  which  I  have  seen,  and  a  very 
indifferent  performance  it  is. 

Another  instance  which  I  shall  give,  discovers  a 
singular  display  of  pride  and  poverty. 

He  was  invited,  together  with  a  friend  of  his,  to 
visit  Sir  William  Carew  at  Anthony  House,  which 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  River  Tamer,  and  at  such 
a  distance  from  Plymouth,  where  tiiey  lived,  that  it 
was  nearly  impossible  for  them  to  return  to  their 
home  on  the  same  day,  and  of  consequence,  they  were 
to  sleep  at  Sir  William's :  but  it  so  happened  that  the 
house  at  that  time  was  so  crowded  with  visitors,  that 
tliere  was  a  necessity  for  Gandy  and  his  friend  to 
content  themselves  with  one  bed  between  them.  This 
seemed  greatly  to  mortify  Gandy's  pride  at  the 
moment ;  and  they  were  no  sooner  retired  to  their 
chamber  than  he  began  to  give  free  vent  to  his  ill 
humour,  in  curses  on  the  indignity  thus  offered  them, 
by  treating  two  gentlemen  (to  use  his  own  terms)  in 
such  a  manner,  and  not  allotting  to  each  of  them  a 
separate  chamber.    ISotwithstandiug  all  the  reasons 


380  MEMOIR  OF 

which  were  offered  to  him,  from  the  necessity  of  the 
case,  as  the  house  was  at  that  time  so  filled  with 
guests,  nothing  that  could  be  urged  was  sufficient  to 
appease  the  rage  of  Gandy ;  and  of  this  the  secret  and 
real  cause  was  now  about  to  transpire,  for  on  his 
taking  oif  his  clothes  to  go  to  bed,  it  evidently  ap- 
peared that,  instead  of  proper  linen,  he  had  two  shirts 
on  (if  such  miglit  be  called  shirts)  both  of  which  were 
in  such  a  ruinous  and  tattered  condition,  such  a  mere 
bundle  of  rags,  that  out  of  the  two  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  realize  half  a  one  fit  for  wear. 

His  portraits  (for  I  believe  he  never  painted  any 
thing  else)  are  slight  and  sketchy,  and  show  more  of 
genius  than  labour ;  they  indeed  demonstrate  facility, 
feeling,  and  nice  observation,  as  far  as  concerns  the 
head ;  but  he  was  so  idle  and  so  unambitious  that  the 
remainder  of  tiie  picture,  except  sometimes  the  hand, 
is  commonly  copied  from  some  print  after  Sir  Godfrey 
Kneller. 

It  is  evident  that  there  must  have  been  some  period 
of  his  life  when  he  pursued  his  profession  with  as- 
siduity and  energy,  which  alone  could  have  gained 
him  the  facility  of  practice  that  he  possessed ;  but  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  lie  could  never  be  induced  to 
paint  at  all,  unless  driven  to  it  by  mere  want;  and  he 
had  no  sooner  acquired  a  little  money  than  it  was  as 
quickly  gone  in  luxurious  feeding,  w  hich  seemed  to 
be  his  great  passion. 

There  is  little  reason  to  doubt  that  he  might  have 
been  the  greatest  painter  of  his  time,  had  he  not  been 
liis  own  greatest  enemy. 

There  is  no  portrait  of  himself  existing  tliat  I  ever 
lieard  of,  and  when,  how,  or  where  he  died  or  was 
buried,  I  never  knew,  but  most  probably  at  Exeter, 
as  that  city  was  chiefly  tlie  place  of  his  residence. 

He  came  to  Plymouth  about  the  year  171'*?  and  was 
then  a  man  advanced  in  years.  My  grandfatiier  was 
a  great  friend  to  him ;  but  Gandy  quitted  Plymouth 
much  in  his  debt,  departing  secretly  and  leaving  only 
a  few  old  books  and  prints  behind  Iiim. 


WILLIAM  GANDY.  33I 

I  have  seen  in  Devonshire  several  very  fine  heads 
of  his  painting,  particularly  one  of  tlie  Rev.  John 
Gilbert,  Canon  of  the  cathedral  of  Exeter,  and  vicar 
of  St.  Andrews',  Plymouth,  and  father  of  the  arch- 
bishop of  York,  of  that  name  :  it  is  less  than  life,  and 
has  been  engraved  by  Vertue  for  the  volume  of 
Sermons,  published  by  Mr.  Gilbert.  There  is  also  a 
fine  portrait  of  the  Reverend  Nathaniel  Harding,  at 
that  time  a  famous  dissenting  preacher  of  Plymouth; 
this  picture  was  painted  by  the  desire  of  my  father's 
mother,  and  given  by  her  to  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
Harding,  after  his  death. 

There  is  likewise  a  portrait  of  one  Tobias  Langton 
of  Exeter,  remarkably  fine.  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller, 
who  was  once  at  Exeter,  by  chance  saw  this  picture^ 
and  with  astonishment  inquired  who  was  the  artist 
capable  of  having  painted  it,  and  when  told  it  was  by 
a  painter  of  that  city  who  was  in  great  poverty,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Good  God !  why  does  he  bury  his  talents 
in  the  country  when  he  ought  immediately  to  come  to 
London,  where  his  merit  would  soon  be  known  and 
properly  rewarded?" 

One,  of  my  father  when  a  child  of  four  years  of  age, 
is  equally  excellent. — One  of  my  father's  mother  is 
likewise  extremely  fine,  although  Gandy,  from  his  ill 
nature,  was  quarrelling  with  her  the  whole  time  he  was 
painting  it.  The  drapery  of  this  picture  is  painted  in 
a  slovenly  manner  from  a  print  after  Kneller,  but 
there  is  a  hand  in  it  very  finely  executed. 

There  are  also  a  great  many  of  liis  pictures  scat- 
tered about  Devonshire  and  Cornwall;  some  very  fine 
and  many  more  good-for-nothing,  though  the  worst  of 
them  still  look  like  the  careless  productions  of  a  good 
painter ;  but  the  draperies  were  always  so  entirely 
neglected  by  him,  that  this  very  much  conduces  to 
destroy  the  general  etfect  of  the  picture.  He  seemed 
never  to  have  thought  of  fame,  but  only  how  to  get  rid 
of  his  work,  that  he  might  the  sooner  receive  the 
money,  which  was  not  above  two  guineas  a  head. 

X  X 


333  MEMOIR  OF 

He  wished  to  have  it  supposed  that  he  was  the 
natural  son  of  the  great  Duke  of  Ormond,  who  was 
afterwards  banished,  and  always  insinuated  that  he 
liad  some  secret  reasons  for  not  appearing  publicly 
in  London;  whether  this  was  really  tlie  case,  or 
whether  he  only  hoped  to  give  liimself  importance  by 
his  mysterious  speeches,  I  cannot  determine. 

I  have  learnt  these  particulars  from  my  father, 
whose  family  had  opportunities  of  being  well  ac- 
quainted with  fiiandy's  history,  in  consequence  of  his 
jiaviug  resided  a  long  time  in  the  house  of  my  grand- 
father, who  admired  his  talents,  and  esteemed  him  as 
the  greatest  artist  of  his  time. 

I  have  seen  a  portrait  by  Gandy's  father  (of  whom 
Pilkington  speaks)  of  the  Duke  of  Orraond;  it  is  in 
the  possession  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  and  this,  as  it 
w  as  of  his  patron,  may  be  supposed  one  of  his  best 
performances;  if  so,  1  must  give  the  preference  in 
ability  to  the  son ;  for  though  this  portrait  is  finished 
with  much  more  care  than  any  by  the  younger  Gandy, 
yet  it  is  very  far  from  discovering  so  much  genius. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  drapery  in  this  portrait  is 
so  exactly  similar  to  that  which  we  so  often  find  in 
Vandyke's  pictures,  that  it  confirms  Pilkington's  sup- 
position of  Gandy,  the  ftither,  having  been  the  as- 
sistant of  Vandyke,  and  almost  proves  him  to  have 
frequently  painted  those  parts  in  the  pictures  of  that 
celebrated  painter. 

It  appears  to  me  to  be  highly  probable  that  this 
James  Gandy,  the  fatlier,  was  a  native  of  Exeter,  as 
the  son  made  choice  of  it  for  his  place  of  residence, 
and  also  because  that  it  is  a  well  known  name  and 
family  still  remaining  in  that  city.  AA'e  find  the  name 
also  in  Prince's  '"•'  Worthies  of  Devon.*' 

I  cannot  close  the  memoir  of  this  man  witliout 
noticing  how  much  it  proves  that  the  greatest  abilities 
may  become  totally  useless  to  the  possessor,  and  lost 
to  the  world  at  large,  if  not  directed  by  virtue  and 
industry:  and  the  lives  of  such  persons,  as  they 
exhibit  an  example  of  the  distresses  to  which  idleness 


WILLIAM  GANDY.  833 

and  want  of  moral  principles  may  expose  men  of 
parts,  may  be  an  useful  lesson  to  the  rising  generation, 
and  prove  a  more  powerful  persuasive  to  industry, 
economy,  and  the  right  use  of  great  talents,  than  the 
most  laboured  argument;  and  as  Johnson  so  ex- 
quisitely expresses  it — 

^^  Tiiose  who,  in  confidence  of  superior  capacities 
or  attainments,  disregard  the  common  maxims  of  life, 
should  be  reminded,  that  nothing  will  supply  the 
want  of  prudence;  and  that  negligence  and  irregu- 
larity long  continued,  will  make  knowledge  useless, 
wit  ridiculous,  and  genius  contemptible." 

The  example  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  is  an  illus- 
trious contrast  to  this,  where  we  see  that  great  abili-^ 
ties,  united  to  virtue,  have  raised  for  liim  an  everlast 
ing  monument  of  fame. 


VARIETIES  ON  ART. 


THE 

DREAM 

OF  A  PAINTER. 


►  :o:c:o:< 


No  painter  can  have  felt  tiic  true  euthusiasm  of  his 
art  who  has  not  been  impressed  by  contemplating  the 
rich  treasures  which  are  to  be  found  deposited  in  the 
Vatican.  It  is  there  that  the  soul  seems  to  expand 
beyond  its  usual  limits^  and  inhales  an  atmosphere 
peculiarly  its  own. 

The  majesty  of  the  vast  fabric,  the  solemn  religious 
monastic  dignity  which  invests  it,  crowned  by  those 
stupendous  works  of  art  which  adorn  the  stately 
chambers,  all  conspire  to  fill  the  mind  with  lofty 
ideas,  and  lift  it  above  the  earth.  The  various  por- 
traits also  of  illustrious  individuals  found  interspersed 
in  those  paintings  of  persons  who  were  coteraporaries 
of  the  great  Leo,  and  the  friends  and  patrons  of  the 
still  greater  Raphael,  help  to  carry  us  back  to  those 
golden  days  in  which  they  flourished. 

In  a  train  of  thought  naturally  proceeding  from  such 
impressions,  I  wandered  in  the  apartments  unconcious 
of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  when  resting  myself  on 
the  steps  of  an  altar  in  a  small  oratory  built  by  St. 
Pius  the  Fifth,  situated  immediately  beyond  the 
stanza  of  Raphael,  I  was  so  eutirly  absorbed  in 
thought,  that  whether  I  really  slept  or  seemed  to 
sleep,  I  will  not  determine ;  but  methought  a  form, 
like  that  of  an  angel,  approached,  and  addressing  me 
wth  a  mild  air,  said,  "  You  have  enlisted  under  the 


4.  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

banner  of  the  arts,  fine  arts  you  call  them,  a  noble  and 
a  bold  resolution,  where  labour  and  study  may  be 
rewarded  with  immortality.  Your  other  fortunes  must 
be  left  to  chance.  As  the  Genius  of  those  arts  to 
which  you  have  devoted  yourself,  it  becomes  ray  duty 
and  your  right  that  I  conduct  you  wheresoever  you 
may  gain  improvement.  I  am  one  of  those  attendant 
Spirits  who  watch  over  the  hours  of  the  studious  and 
industrious ;  I  inspire  with  hope  and  strength  all 
minds  that  are  bent  on  gaining  knowledge,  but  bestow 
no  help  on  such  as  are  not  prepared  and  anxious  to 
receive  it.  All  instruction  is  in  vain  offered  to  those 
who  do  not  seek  it,  or  whose  minds  are  pre-occupied : 
but  you  who  are  properly  disposed,  may  follow  me, 
and  for  a  time  relax  from  your  labours." 

I  instantly  obeyed  the  order  with  alacrity,  and 
followed  my  conductor,  who  led  me  through  various 
windings  and  vaulted  avenues,  sometimes  in  light 
and  sometimes  in  obscurity,  till  at  length  we  entered  a 
stately  building  or  temple,  when  a  grand  saloon 
presented  itself  to  our  sight.  Here  he  placed  me  in  a 
most  commodious  situation  for  observing  every  thiug 
that  passed.  The  room  soon  became  crowded  by  a 
mixed  multitude,  of  different  degrees,  ages,  and 
nations.  The  place  was  immense  in  size,  superb  in 
decoration,  and  terminated  at  the  end  fartliest  from  the 
company  by  a  splendid  curtain  of  golden  tapestry. 
My  guardian  never  left  me,  and  appeared  to  have 
pleasure  in  affording  me  all  necessary  information : 
he  now  desired  me  to  attend,  saying,  "  That  which 
will  quickly  be  presented  to  your  view,  is  a  proces- 
sional show,  addressed  to  the  sight,  and  to  the  greater 
part  of  the  spectators  will  be  matter  of  amusement 
only:  to  you,  I  hope,  it  will  be  more  than  mere 
entertainment;  those  things  which  you  may  not  com- 
prehend without  my  assistance,  I  will  explain." 

JMy  guide  had  scarcely  done  speaking,  when  we 
heard  an  awful  blast  of  trumpets  in  tlie  air,  which 
seemed  to  shake  the  very  foundation  of  the  building, 
and  the  curtain  of  rich  tapestry  being  withdrawn, 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  PAINTER.  $ 

discovered  Apollo  seated  on  a  throne  surrounded  by 
the  Muses,  in  all  the  splendour  of  Parnassus,  and 
before  the  throne  passed  in  procession  an  assembly  of 
grave  and  dignified  characters,  which  my  informant 
told  me  were  the  ancient  Greek  and  Roman  philoso- 
phers  and  pnets;  the  latter  part  of  tlie  procession 
appeared  to  dwindle  into  comparative  insignificance, 
and  seemed  to  be  made  up  of  persons  who  mimicked 
those  who  went  before  them,  and  who  fell  far  short  of 
their  predecessors,  in  majesty  and  grace. 

After  these  had  parsed,  there  entered  on  the  stage 
one  of  the  most  enchanting  and  graceful  female  figures 
I  had  ever  beheld.  She  was  encompassed  by  a 
splendour,  or  rather  glory,  that  sparkled  with  every 
colour  of  the  rainbow :  in  her  hands  she  bore  the 
implements  made  use  of  by  painters.  But  what  ap- 
peared ludicrous  and  unaccountable  to  me,  was  to  see 
with  how  much  solicitude  this  charming  nymph  en- 
couraged and  enticed  to  come  forward  the  oddest 
group  I  ever  saw,  and  the  most  unlike  herself.  Their 
number  was  considerable,  their  manners  timid,  and 
they  paid  her  great  homage :  this  assembly  was  in 
general  composed  of  figures,  lean,  old,  and  hard 
featured ;  their  drapery  hung  about  them  in  so  formal 
a  manner,  that  it  fell  into  nothing  but  straight  lines, 
and  their  sallow  complexions  appeared  well  to  corres- 
pond with  the  dingy  hue  of  their  gothic  monastic 
habits.  Several  amongst  them  were  females,  with 
half  starved  and  sickly  looking  children  accompany, 
iug  them,  but  not  one  of  the  whole  group  had  beauty 
suificient  to  attract  much  attention.  However,  their 
modesty  and  diflidence  were  such,  as  rendered  it 
impossible  for  them  to  oftend  the  most  fastidious 
spectator;  for  their  manners  were  natural,  simple, 
and  perfectly  unassuming.  They  displayed  no  airs  of 
pretence  to  self-importance,  no  violent  contortions  of 
affectation,  nor  the  grimance  of  forced  expression ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  such  a  degree  of  strong  and 
distinct  meaning  in  the  countenance,  and  in  their 
actions;  such  strict  propriety,  judgment,  and  simplici- 

Y    V 


6  VARIETIES  ON  ART.    n 

ty,  as  altogether  gave  tliem  a  peculiar  air  of  dignity* 
Those,  my  guide  informed  me,  were  the  earliest 
^e^  ivers  of  the  fine  arts. 

After  this  curious  procession  was  gone  hy,  a  deep 
silence  prevailed,  wliicli  shongly  impressed  me  with 
an  idea  that  someihing  of  a  move  exalted  kind  was 
about  to  enter,  and  accordingly  tlierc  soon  appeared  a 
group  of  grave  matliematicians  and  mechanics,  as  I 
plainly  perceived  they  were,  by  the  various  instru- 
ments applicable  to  the  purposes  of  their  studies,  and 
which  they  bore  in  their  hands.  These  were  fol- 
lowed by  professors  of  chemistry,  anatomy  and  sur- 
i>:erv,  as  was  evident  also  bv  their  insijrnia.  Then 
came  a  band  bearing  various  instruments  of  music,  on 
which  they  sv»  eetly  played,  followed  by  led  horses  of 
Barbary  and  Arabian  breed,  richly  caparisoned. 
These  beautiful  animals,  although  perfectly  under  the 
command  of  the  page  who  held  each,  yet  played  and 
wantoned  in  a  tiiousand  graceful  attitudes  as  they 
moved  slowly  forward.  Now  came  four  warriors 
accoutred  cap-a-pee  in  f;intastic  armour,  bearing 
standards  in  their  hands  and  mounted  on  horses 
equally  perfect  in  figure  with  the  former :  next  to  these 
came  a  company  of  fair  nymphs,  who  seemed  to  rep- 
resent the  hours,  strewing  fiowers  before  a  magnifi- 
cent car,  which  entered  drawn  by  dragons  and  various 
grotesque  monsters.  In  this  car  sat  a  person  very 
aged,  but  his  appearance  was  the  most  awful  and 
striking  that  can  be  imagined.  He  was  of  a  form 
perfect  in  proportion,  and  his  countenance  was  still 
beautiful,  his  eyes  beaming  with  intelligence  and  fire  : 
his  garments  deep  and  rich  in  colour  were  of  the  most 
costly  stuffs,  and  he  was  adorned  with  a  great  quantity 
of  golden  chains  and  rare  jewels.  He  wore  his  own 
hair  with  a  long  and  flowing  beard.  At  his  side  sate 
a  royal  personage  with  an  imperial  crown  upon  his 
Iiead,  who  paid  him  the  greatest  marks  of  attention 
and  respect.  My  guide  informed  rae  that  the  venera- 
ble person  in  the  car  was  Leonardo  da  Vinci  seated 
on  the  right  hand  of  his  patron  and  friend  Francis  the 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  PAINTER.  y 

First  of  France ;  the  dragons  which  drew  the  car 
were  the  ingenious  contrivance  of  Leonardo  himself, 
the  result  of  his  skill  in  mechanics,  and  executed  in 
his  hours  of  relaxation.  ^'  This  extraordinary  man,"" 
said  my  guide,  "  seems  to  have  heen  the  peculiar 
favourite  of  Providence;  endowed  with  an  ample 
capacity  to  embrace  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences, 
as  you  may  perceive  by  those  who  pay  attendance  on 
his  progress ;  born  and  educated  high,  the  companion 
and  favourite  of*  sovereigns,  blessed  with  health, 
beauty,  fortune,  genius  and  long  life;  iu  truth  adorned 
with  all  that  nature  has  to  bestow  on  a  mortal.'' 
Thus  passed  the  pageant,  and  the  area  of  the  stage 
was  now  clear,  when  I  perceived  a  bright  cloud 
descending  to  the  ground,  whicji  by  degrees  vanished 
into  air,  and  then  discovered  to  our  sight  an  elderly 
personage  of  most  singular  majesty  of  deportment. 
He  was  habited  in  a  flowing  robe  of  green  velvet,  with 
a  kind  of  hat  or  cap  of  the  same  on  his  head ;  he 
Bioved  with  a  firm  and  dignified  step;  he  had  but  few 
followers  and  those  few  stood  at  an  awful  distance. 
He  appeared  to  scorn  the  flutter  or  parade  of  show,  as 
if  all  dignity  was  in  himself,  and  when  he  trod,  the 
very  ground  seemed  to  tremble  beneath  him.  At  liie 
motion  of  his  wand  he  was  encircled  by  a  group  of 
more  than  mortal  beings;  sacred  prophets  and  sybils 
came  obedient  to  his  call.  Behind  him  mysterious 
visions  floated  in  the  distant  space,  and  as  if  the 
heavens  had  opened,  there  appeared  angelic  forms 
ascending  and  descending.  A  stream  of  light  shoue 
down  upon  him  like  that  which  we  may  imagine  miglii 
have  surrounded  Moses  when  the  tables  of  the  law 
were  delivered  to  him.  Its  glory  was  too  powerful  to 
be  viewed  without  pain,  and  turning  from  it  to  relieve 
my  aching  sight,  I  saw  it  no  more,  as  instantly  the 
curtain  hid  the  awful  scene.  "  You  have  had  this 
transient  view,'^  said  my  guide  "  of  Michael  Augelo 
Buonarotti." 

By  degrees,  the  curtain  being  again  withdrawn 
discovered  a  solemn  though  splendid  assembly  of 


g  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

grave  and  dignified  persons,  wiiicli  appeared  to  be  the 
Court  of  Rome ;  and  Pope  Julius  the  second  himself 
was  seated  on  the  throne  accompanied  by  many 
cardinals,  who  sat  on  each  side;  and  a  number  of 
bishops,  prelates,  and  foreign  embassadors  stood 
round;  when  we  introduced  to  the  Pope  a  young  man 
of  a  most  winning  aspect:  a  mild,  yet  penetrating  eye 
enlivened  his  countenance,  in  other  respects  also 
handsome :  his  manner  was  simple,  graceful,  and 
modest;  he  was  particularly  noticed  by  two  cardinals, 
one  of  which  was  John,  Cardinal  of  Medicis,  as  my 
guide  informed  me.  The  Pope  received  him  with 
much  condescension,  and  having  recommended  him  to 
the  care  of  some  of  the  principal  officers  of  the  court, 
the  young  man  gracefully  withdrew,  followed  by 
several  great  persons,  and  the  scene  soon  closed. 
"  You  have  been  shown  Raphael  Urbin,"  said  my 
guardian;  "  but  shall  again  see  him  more  to  his 
advantage  than  in  the  former  stately  assembly." 
When  turning  my  eyes  towards  the  area  of  the  magi- 
cal  theatre,  I  saw  Raphael  enter  the  great  chambers  of 
the  Vatican,  the  spacious  walls  of  which  appeared 
unspotted,  and  glared  only  in  white  before  his  sight: 
on  tiiese  he  was  to  display  the  immortal  works  of  his 
highest  powers;  I  felt  for  him  when  I  contemplated 
the  arduous  encounter,  but  he  with  modest  courage 
looked  calmly  around.  Presently  there  entered  a 
crowd  attending  on  him,  my  guide  addressing  me 
said,  "  do  you  not  perceive  in  the  retinue  a  poor  man 
habited  in  the  garb  of  a  disbanded  soldier,  leading  a 
little  boy  whom  a  favourite  goat  follows,  held  by  a 
string?  That  goat  has  to  that  child  stood  in  the  place 
of  a  protector  and  a  nurse ;  it  is  little  Pierino  del  Vaga 
who  lost  his  mother  nearly  as  soon  as  he  gained  life. 
This  parent,  so  particularly  important  to  infant  years, 
he  was  deprived  of  by  the  ravages  of  the  plague  at 
Florence  where  he  was  born.  The  father  thus  left 
desolate  and  in  poverty  had  no  other  means  to  pre- 
serve the  new-born  infant  than  by  procuring  a  milch 
goat  to  supply  the  loss ;  this  creature  is  become  their 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  PAINTER.  9 

ibndliug,  and  the  child  now  returns  the  protections  he 
before  received :  he  is  destined  to  foHow  in  the  train 
of  the  great  painter,  who  will  quickly  perceive  his 
dawning  powers." 

My  attention  was  now  fixed  on  Raphael,  who 
quickly  commenced  his  great  work:  when  methought 
beauties  instantly  began  to  spring  up  under  his  hand, 
and  his  fingers  seemed  as  if  inspired  by  his  breath.  I 
was  transfixed  and  lost  in  delight.  I  could  have 
looked  on  for  ever,  but  my  guide  interrupting  my 
attention,  the  pleasing  vision  vanished  from  my  sight. 

Now  we  saw  Titian  pass :  his  appearance  was 
impressive,  and  strikingly  grave  and  majestic ;  his 
dress  was  an  ample  robe  of  black  velvet;  his  train, 
which  was  of  great  length,  was  borne  by  Pordenone, 
the  Bassanos,  Girolamo,  Mutiano,  Giacomo,  Palma, 
and  others.  He  was  accompanied  by  Tintorretto  and 
Paul  Veronese,  and  before  him  went  Bellino  and 
Georgioue,  bearing  each  in  his  hand  a  light  so  illustri- 
ous that  the  whole  group  were  illumined  by  the 
splendour.  The  scene  around  was  landscape,  but 
like  the  country  of  enchantment,  where  the  tall  wild 
trees  of  various  species  were  seen  spreading  their 
ample  branches  in  the  sky,  and  below,  appearing  in 
the  distance  between  them,  shone  the  blue  sapphire 
mountains,  tipt  with  gold  by  the  setting  sun,  which 
glowed  in  the  bright  horizon,  and  threw  its  warmth 
around  a  scene,  in  which  the  sublime  and  beautiful, 
thus  united,  filled  the  mind  alternately  with  astonish- 
ment, terror,  and  delight.  But  what  still  increased  my 
enthusiasm  was,  that  on  a  sudden  1  heard  a  choir  of 
the  most  seraphic  music,  such  as  before  had  never 
struck  my  ear ;  but  I  could  perceive  neither  instru- 
ments nor  performers :  it  was  not  like  any  sounds  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  hear,  even  at  the  most  select 
concerts,  but  rather  resembled  the  idea  we  have  of 
that  celestial  harmony  with  which  angels,  we  are 
told,  welcomed  the  expiring  St.  Francis  into  Heaven, 
I  was  so  enraptured  with  the  notes,  that  for  a  time  I 
scarcely  knew  where  I  was,  when  on  recollecting 


10  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

myself,  and  looking  round,  I  found  that  the  scene  was 
totally  changed,  and  an  open  country  was  now  before 
US  Avith  the  sun  bright  as  at  nooii-day.  Methought  I 
saw  a  ilight  of  sportive  little  cherubs  in  the  air,  play- 
ing round  and  round  like  summer  flies,  three  beautiful 
females  like  the  Graces  also  appeared  in  all  the 
triumph  of  their  charms,  and  joined  tlie  group  who 
now  altogether  were  filled  with  earnest  expectation, 
as  if  to  welcome  some  chosen  object  of  their  tenderest 
care.  I  felt  the  highest  degree  of  impatience  to  be- 
hold who  this  peculiarly  honoured  personage  might  be 
to  whom  the  loves  and  graces  delighted  to  pay  their 
homage,  and  were  so  solicitous  to  attend.  When 
after  a  short  time  there  entered,  to  my  great  surprize, 
not  one  whose  appearance  bespoke  him  of  quality, 
but  a  person  unattended,  and  in  the  mean  hal3it  of  a 
rustic,  aged  about  forty  years,  bearing  on  his  back  a 
huge  sack,  evidently  too  heavy  for  his  strength,  whilst 
he  himself  appeared  to  be  so  much  debilitated  by  the 
excessive  load,  as  well  as  by  the  heat  of  the  day,  that 
lie  fainted  and  seemed  expiring  beneath  his  burden: 
his  late  playful  companions  flew  with  eagerness  to 
succour  him ;  but  he  was  by  this  time  too  far  exhausted 
to  be  sensible  of  their  solicitude  or  attention :  they 
held  his  chilling  hand  in  mournful  silence;  they 
■wiped  the  faint  damps  from  the  face  of  their  adored 
mortal,  they  could  only  close  his  eyes  in  death,  and 
lament  their  fatal  separation.  "  You  look  grave," 
said  ray  guide  "  at  the  disastrous  lot  of  the  unfortunate 
Correggio.  The  burden  under  which  he  died  was  a 
load  of  base  copper  coin,  which  had  been  just  paid 
him  for  years  of  labour,  and  for  works  divine:  his 
fate  is  the  more  pitiable,  because  it  was  not  brought 
upon  himself  by  any  misconduct  of  his  own." 

"'  But  let  us  quit  this  melancholy  scene,"  continued 
my  instructor,  ^'  and  attend  to  the  illustrious  persons 
who  now  enter :  these  are  the  family  of  the  laborious, 
and  not  less  famous  Caracci,  followed  by  their  great 
scholars,  Domenichino,  Lanfranco,  Guercino,  Albano^ 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  PAINTER.  fl 

together  with  a  numerous   retinue  of  most  respecta- 
ble appearance.'^ 

Annibal,  I  saw,  boldly  took  the  lead  ia  the  proces- 
sion, although  not  the  first  in  age.  His  figure  was 
awful;  his  form  was  muscular  and  of  fine  proportion; 
his  step  was  firm  and  with  a  noble  wildness  in  his 
gait;  the  expression  of  his  countenance  was  so  deter- 
mined, that  it  rather  bordered  on  severity.  Then  we 
saw  Lodovico  advance,  with  a  milder  air,  more  sweet- 
ness in  his  aspect,  with  more  grace  and  sensibility  in 
his  manner,  and  a  solemn  dignity  in  his  carriage:  he 
seemed  to  be  surrounded  (as  if  by  a  guard)  by  those 
who  at  first  sight  I  thought  had  been  all  the  illustrious 
painters  whom  we  had  seen  pass  before  as  principal 
figures,  but  on  a  closer  inspection  I  could  clearly 
discern  them  to  be  no  more  than  an  excellent  assem- 
blage of  well-chosen  representatives  of  those  great 
geniuses.  The  likeness  to  Correggio  was  particularly 
imposing,  and  in  some  views  appeared  just  himself; 
but,  when  he  turned,  I  could  distinctly  perceive  the 
difi'erenee:  however,  the  whole  together  produced  a 
most  splendid  effect,  in  which  Lodovico  had  the 
appearance  of  being  the  master  and  cause  of  the 
procession.  ^'  You  shall  now  see,"  said  my  guide, 
"  a  character  contrasted  to  that  of  Correggio,  one  less 
pitiable,  though  scarcely  less  unfortunate  or  less  ex; 
cellent — one  who  dallied  with  good  fortune,  und 
brought  his  hardships  on  himself.  This  favourite  of 
the  Graces,  in  his  latter  days,  wasted  both  his  genius 
and  his  life:  but  see,  he  comes!*'  The  heavenly 
choir,  with  a  soft  and  melodious  strain,  in  a  sort  of 
minuet  time,  proclaimed  his  entrance,  when  we  saw 
come  forward  a  beautiful  youth  like  an  Adonis,  whose 
steps  kept  time  with  the  music:  all  his  actions  were 
graceful  in  the  highest  degree,  yet  only  just  free  from 
affectation.  He  was  welcomed,  and  even  courted,  by 
those  captivating  graces,  who  now  ajipeared  in  the 
perfection  of  their  heavenly  beauties,  and  seemed  to  vie 
with  each  other  which  should  be  most  his  favourite ; 
while  he,  with  all  courtesy  and  modest  elegance, 


12  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

expressed  a  due  sense  of  the  high  honour  done  him, 
and  as  they  trod  to  the  accord  of  music,  they  thug 
quitted  the  stage  together.  Then  followed,  to  close 
his  retinue,  a  melancholy  set  of  wretched  garahlers 
and  sharpers,  who  with  tattered  garments,  wild  eyes, 
and  haggard  visages,  shook  each  his  dice-box  in  frantic 
despair.  "  Behold,''  said  my  guide,  *^  the  splendid 
genius  of  Guido  Reni  disgraced  by  the  base  and 
vicious  crew  who  finish  iiis  career.  Unfortunate 
being!  to  throw  away  the  heavenly  riches  with  which 
he  had  been  blessed,  by  wasting  his  time  and  ven- 
turing his  fortunes  with  miscreants  like  these  I" 

My  instructor  perceiving  the  agitation  this  last 
scene  had  raised  in  my  mind,  looked  on  me  with  pity, 
but  remarked  to  me  the  necessity  there  was  for  my 
being  informed  of  every  circumstance,  good  or  evil, 
attendant  on  the  department  I  had  adopted,  as  useful 
examples  by  which  I  might  the  better  be  enabled  to 
regulate  my  future  conduct. 

"  One  scene  more  of  a  tragic  cast,''  said  he,  "  I 
shall  oifer  to  your  view,  further  I  will  not  oppress 
your  feelings,  though  many  yet  remain  which  might 
be  given." 

A  small  building  like  an  Italian  inn  was  now  pre- 
sented to  our  view  :  in  its  interior  sat  four  persons  at  a 
table,  as  if  about  to  sup  in  a  friendly  manner.  One  of 
the  party,  a  young  man  of  a  bright  and  ruddy  com- 
plexion, appeared  to  be  the  genius  of  the  company, 
and,  I  saw,  was  viewed  by  the  others  with  evident 
marks  of  envy :  the  young  man  was  gay  and  innocent 
liimself,  and  seemed  not  to  regard  their  secret  ill  will, 
if,  indeed,  he  was  sensible  of  it.  One  of  them,  in 
particular,  drew  my  attention,  who,  I  saw,  had  a 
scowling  aspect,  and  w  ho  surveyed  him,  at  such  times 
as  opportunity  offered,  with  looks  that  terrified  me. 
This  person  officiously  prepared  the  sallad  which  was 
on  the  table :  in  doing  which  I  remarked  his  taking  a 
small  phial  from  his  pocket,  unperceived  by  the  rest 
of  the  company.  He  then  poured  the  contents  into  the 
mixture  of  the  sallad  which  he  dressed,  and  when 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  PAINTER.  13 

supper  was  served,  he  offered  his  mixture  to  the 
ruddy  youth,  and  was  very  importunate  and  earnest 
to  make  him  partake  of  it,  in  which  he  succeeded ; 
and  after  tliis  miscreant  had  seen  liini  swallow  a 
sufficient  quantity,  he,  as  if  by  accident,  pushed  the 
bowl  with  the  remainder  of  this  sallad  off  the  table, 
and  spilled  it  on  the  floor,  and  thus  it  became  unfit 
for  use.  Soon  we  perceived  the  unfortunate  youth 
began  to  writhe  in  agonies  of  pain,  which  increased 
till  he  fainted  in  convulsive  fits,  when  his  companions 
bore  him  away,  and  we  saw  them  no  more.  I  turned 
to  my  guide  with  emotions  of  astonishment  and 
sorrow.  ^^  Surely,"  said  I,  "  he  has  been  poisoned 
by  that  villian." — "  True,"  said  my  guide,  "  but  he 
does  not  die  by  this  vile  act.  I  show  you  this  vision, 
it  represents  the  story  of  Frederico  Baroccio,  who 
never  had  health  after  the  fatal  night,  although  he 
lived  to  a  great  age  in  misery,  and  at  intervals  ex- 
ercised those  great  talents  with  which  Nature  had 
blessed  him  at  his  birth;  but  owing  to  the  precarious 
state  of  his  life,  he  devoted  his  time  and  labours  to 
pious  and  solemn  subjects.  You  see  in  this  example 
the  dreadful  effects  of  ill  guided  passions.  Emulation, 
in  which  are  tiie  seeds  of  the  highest  virtue,  in  this 
sad  instance  is  turned  into  envy,  and  thus  degenerates 
into  the  most  pernicious  vice.  That  strong  desire 
which  the  vile  assassin  felt  to  be  the  first  in  his  pro- 
fession, instead  of  stimulating  him  with  a  noble 
energy  to  surpass  his  competitor  by  fair  exertions  and 
superior  skill,  urges  him  on  to  gain  pre-eminence  by 
the  most  dark,  cowardly,  and  execrable  means ;  the 
destruction  of  his  superior.  Thus  envy  always  waits 
at  virtue's  elbow.'' 

The  area,  now  presented  to  our  sight,  seemed  to 
promise  a  parade  of  show :  the  scene  appeared  to  be 
the  portico  of  a  magnificent  building ;  a  band  of  musi- 
cians  with  warlike  instruments  entered,  sounding  a 
grand  march;  these  were  followed  by  a  company  of 
guards,  as  if  attending  on  a  sovereign  prince;  tiien 
came  a  group  of  splendid  figures  attired  in  habits  of 
z  z 


f  i  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

the  ricliest  drapcnps,  and  amongst  them  I  descried 
mitred  abbots,  bishops,  cardinals,  and  popes.  Follow- 
ing these,  came  warriors  in  full  harness,  witli  plumed 
heralcts  on  their  heads,  mounted  on  horses  which 
seemed  like  those  described  in  Eastern  poetry.  Then 
came  a  group  of  chubby  boys,  holding  I'estoons  of 
mingled  flowers,  by  which  were  led  various  savage 
animals,  as  lions,  tigers,  leopards,  bears,  and  others  of 
an  inferior  nature;  but  each  the  most  beautiful  of  its 
kind.  Next  came  the  person  who  appeared  to  be  the 
principal  figure  of  this  splendid  scene :  he  was  most 
gorgeously  apparrelled ;  and  on  his  head  he  wore  a 
large  black  Spanish  hat,  ornamented  with  feathers. 
He  was  mounted  on  a  milk-white  Arabian,  which 
liad  a  flowing  mane  and  tail,  and  so  exquisite  in  form, 
that  it  appeared  like  the  vision  of  a  horse.  He  was 
surrounded  by  a  number  of  gay  damsels,  whose  rosy 
flesh  looked  health  itself;  they  were  of  the  fullest 
habit  of  body,  yet  nimbly  danced  round  Rubens,  this 
object  of  their  admiration,  while  he,  in  stately  move- 
ment, proceeded  slowly  on :  a  flourish  of  trumpets  and 
a  group  of  kings  finished  the  procession.  After  these 
had  passed,  a  different  train  appeared.  A  bloated 
crew  of  bacchanalian  wretches,  who  performed  their 
loathsome  actions  with  fantastic  levity ;  what  garments 
they  wore  were  tawdy  rags  of  various  hues  with  tinsel 
finery  to  imitate  gold  ;  altliougli  some  figures  of 
respectable  appearance  mixed  with  and  graced  the 
train. 

Now  tired  with  pomp  and  splendid  show,  the  glare 
of  light  and  sound  of  warlike  strains  on  brazen  in- 
struments, it  was  a  relief  to  me  when  on  a  sudden  I 
was  surrounded  by  a  thick  cloud  or  mist  and  my  guide 
V  afled  me  through  the  air  till  we  alighted  on  a  most 
delicious  rural  spot.  I  perceived  it  was  the  early  hour 
of  the  morn,  when  the  sun  had  not  risen  above  the 
horizon.  AVe  were  alone,  except  that  at  a  little  dis- 
tance  a  young  shepherd  played  on  his  flageolet  as  he 
walked  before  his  herd,  conducting  them  from  the 
fold  to  the  pasture.   The  elevated  pastoral  air  he 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  PAINTER.  i^ 

played  charmed  me  by  its  simplicity,  and  seemed  to 
animate  his  obedient  flock.  The  atmosphere  was 
clear  and  perfectly  calm:  and  now  the  risinj^  sun 
gradually  illumined  the  fine  landscape,  and  began  t«> 
discover  to  our  view  the  distant  country  of  immense, 
extent.  I  stood  awhile  in  expectation  of  what  might 
next  present  itself  of  dazzling  spleirhjur,  wlien  Uie. 
only  object  which  appeared  to  till  this  natural,  grand, 
and  simple  scene,  was  a  rustic  wlio  entered,  not  far 
from  t!ie  place  where  we  stood,  who  by  his  habiliments 
seemed  nothing  better  than  a  peasant;  lie  led  a  poor 
little  ass,  which  was  loaded  Avith  all  the  implements 
required  by  a  painter  in  his  work.  After  advancing  a 
few  paces,  he  stood  still,  and  with  an  air  of  rapture- 
seemed  to  contemplate  the  rising  sun ;  he  next  fell  on 
his  knees,  directed  Ins  eyes  towards  Heaven,  crossed 
himself,  and  then  went  on  with  eager  looks,  as  if  to 
make  choice  of  the  most  advantageous  spot  from  which 
to  make  his  studies  as  a  painter.  "^  This,*'  said  my 
conductor,  *^'  is  that  Claude  Gclee  of  Lorrain,  who 
nobly  disdaining  the  low  employment  to  v.hich  he  was 
originally  bred,  left  it  with  all  its  advantages  of  com- 
petence and  ease  to  embrace  his  present  state  of 
poverty,  in  order  to  adorn  the  world  with  works  oi 
most  accomplished  excellence.'' 

The  view  was  now  changed,  when  there  came 
wandering  by  one  who  at  first  appearance  looked  like 
a  manikin,  or  what  painters  call  a  lay  figure ;  but  of  a 
most  perfect  proportion  of  limbs,  as  if  formed  after  the 
excellent  models  of  antiquity :  in  its  acti(m  there  ap- 
peared great  agility  and  propriety;  yet  still  I  doubted 
if  it  was  really  animated;  it  seemed  to  be  moved  by 
mechanism,  which  made  me  ask  my  guide  if  it  was  a 
living  figure.  "  Do  you  not  know"  (was  the  reply) 
*'  the  famous  Nicolo  Poussin,  the  most  classical  of 
painters  and  most  successful  copier  of  the  antique?"  I 
humbly  confessed  my  ignorance.  I  was  capable  of 
perceiving  only  his  grosser  qualities,  which  opened 
quickly  and  forcibly  upon  me  in  all  the  nationality  of 
French  grimance,  which  he  displayed  in  a  thousand 


16  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

different  expressions  in  succession,  and  obliged  me  to 
acknowledge  liim  to  be  a  very  capital  actor  for  any 
stage.  "  Observe  bira  witb  patience,"  said  my  guide, 
*^  see  how  beautifully  all  bis  limbs  are  formed  just 
like  an  antique  statue:  then  so  judiciously  are  all  his 
actions  suited  to  the  expression  of  bis  countenance  that 
it  is  impossible  to  doubt  his  meaning  for  a  moment." 
I  bowed  in  acquiescence,  and  began  to  persuade  my- 
self that  he  was  alive.  But  that  which  struck  me  with 
equal  admiration,  surprise,  and  delight,  was  the  effect 
produced  when  he  moved  a  wand  which  he  held  in 
his  right  hand  ;  waving  it  over  the  surrounding  space, 
there  gradually  arose  a  view  of  the  most  beautiful 
country  imaginable,  and  such  as  I  should  conclude 
must  have  been  a  perfect  example  of  a  truly  classic 
style  of  scenery. 

My  kind  conductor  now  quitted  the  place,  and  I 
obediently  followed  him,  when  he  led  me  through 
wandering  paths  till  we  arrived  at  the  porch  of  a  sin- 
gular and  romantic  ancient  mansion.  We  entered, 
and  passing  through  several  rooms,  enriched  by 
decayed  finery,  we  at  last  came  to  a  chamber  which 
had  the  appearance  of  a  study  of  times  long  passed, 
where,  in  an  elbow  chair,  companion  to  the  other 
furniture,  sat  a  man  rather  majestic  in  his  aspect:  his 
face  w  as  broad  l)ut  of  a  commanding  expression,  he 
was  overloaded  by  the  quantity  of  his  own  drapery  of 
velvets,  silks,  tissues,  gold  chains,  and  furs  of  all 
sorts,  insomuch  that  it  was  impossible  to  trace  the 
human  figure  under  them :  but  it  all  sparkled  as  if 
illumined  by  a  burning  lens  which  threw  the  light  on 
one  spot  only.  On  looking  round  I  saw,  although 
much  obscured,  his  retinue  behind  him,  which  con- 
sisted of  surely  the  ugliest  crew  of  vulgar  mortals 
(both  male  and  female)  1  had  ever  seen,  and  cloathed 
in  all  the  finery  of  a  pawnbroker's  warehouse ;  and 
although  most  of  them  were  lame  as  well  as  ill-fa- 
voured, yet  the  light  was  so  skilfully  managed  to  fall 
partially  upon  them,  that  it  produced  a  very  solemn 
and;  in  a  considerable  degree,  an  awful  appearance ; 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  PAINTER.  I7 

added  to  this  also  was  the  grand  and  impressive  even- 
ing landscape  on  which  the  sun  had  set  as  it  appeared 
tin'ough  the  vaulted  arches  of  the  building,  and  thus 
added  greatly  to  the  majesty  of  the  sombre  group. 
The  great  man  deported  himself  with  considerable 
dignity,  and  received  vast  homage  from  his  bedizened 
court. 

From  this  spot,  which  appeared  evidently  to  be  on 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  I  was  instantaneously  trans- 
ported by  my  guide,  I  know  not  how,  to  a  spot  of  a 
totally  different  aspect,  which  I  apprehend  must  have 
been  in  the  region  of  the  Alps.  The  air  was  cold  and 
stormy,  and  as  the  view  opened  before  me,  I  dis- 
covered a  most  romantic,  mountainous,  and  rocky 
country,  in  which  tremendous  falls  of  water  came 
rushing  down  with  impetuous  violence,  rooting  up 
vast  trees  in  their  passage:  when  there  entered  a 
spirited  fellow  who  apparently  delighted  himself  in 
the  perfect  use  of  his  limbs.  He  was  partly  accoutred 
in  armour  and  partly  bare;  he  brandished  a  large 
sabre  in  his  right  hand,  and  in  his  left  he  bore  a 
lance;  he  trod  about  in  the  wild  scenery  as  if  he 
defied  the  elements.  I  took  liira  to  be  one  of  a  banditti, 
till  my  conductor  informed  me  it  was  no  other  than 
Salvator  Rosa.  Although  he  was  a  very  fine  figure, 
I  was  not  much  amused  with  his  gesticulations :  he 
was  active,  bold,  and  dexterous,  yet  he  raised  no  sen- 
sations in  my  mind  which  created  any  interest,  and  I 
was  perfectly  well  satisfied  when  he  withdrew. 

My  good  genius  now  transported  me  to  the  sea 
coast,  where,  from  the  lofty  rocks  of  a  bold  shore,  we 
surveyed  the  vast  ocean  at  a  distance,  and  near  us 
embayed  there  lay  in  majestic  tranquillity  a  fleet  of 
ships' of  war  whose  towering  masts  seemed  to  touch 
the  sky.  The  air  scarcely  moved  the  pendant  sails, 
and  tlie  gilded  sterns  glittered  by  the  reflected  light 
of  the  setting  sun;  while  the  white  cloud  of  smoke 
from  the  evening  gun  crept  slowly  over  the  polished 
surface  of  the  water,  now  undisturbed  except  by  tlie 
regular  strokes  of  a  full-oared  barge,  which  had  just 


18  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

left  the  sliore.  On  the  rocks  below  sat  one  who 
seemed  to  view  the  scene  with  most  particular  at- 
tention. "  Beliold,"  said  my  guide,  '*  that  man;  he 
contemplates  the  beauties  of  this  view  with  more  than 
poetic  energy, '^  I  also  warmly  felt  the  grandeur  of 
the  picture  and  expressed  my  delight  in  rapturous 
terms. 

My  guide  touching  me  suddenly  on  the  forehead 
with  his  hand,  my  senses  for  an  instant  forsook  me, 
but  on  recovering  myself  the  astonishment  I  felt  can- 
not be  described,  when  instead  of  the  solemn  stillness 
I  had  just  witnessed,  I  beheld  the  sea  now  run  moun- 
tains high,  the  waves  in  wanton  rage  beat  white 
against  the  steady  and  immoveable  rocks  that  defied 
the  impotent  attack :  but  not  so  was  it  with  those 
stately  floating  castles  which  I  had  seen  in  their 
proud  tranquillity;  these  suffered  a  sad  reverse, weak 
helpless  victims  of  misfortune,  and  were  dashed  with 
unrelenting  fury  on  the  pitiless  rocks  or  shore,  or 
sunk,  torn  asunder  by  the  tempestuous  waves,  while 
the  black  sky  possessed  scarcely  any  light  but  that 
which  proceeded  from  quick  flashes  of  forked  vivid 
lightning.  The  same  enthusiastic  and  daring  artist 
whom  I  had  seen  before  contemplating  the  beauties 
of  the  calm,  now  seemed  quite  as  much  absorbed  in 
the  rude  and  awful  sublimity  which  at  this  time 
presented  itself  to  our  sight:  my  desire  was  so  great 
to  see  and  converse  witii  Yandervelde,  on  being  in- 
formed who  it  was,  that  I  left  my  guide  to  scramble 
down  the  rocks  to  the  place  where  he  sat,  when  un- 
fortunately my  foot  slipped,  and  I  thought  myself 
irretrievably  lost  in  the  sea,  but  my  preserver  and 
guide  caught  me  in  his  arms,  and  on  recovering  from 
my  fright  I  found  myself,  to  my  utter  astonishment, 
with  my  guardian  at  my  side  safely  cloeeted  in  a 
painter's  study,  in  which  two  curious  artists  were 
seen  supporting  in  their  hands  a  microscope,  which 
they  now  placed  on  a  table  with  great  care,  and  each 
of  them  eagerly  looked  through  different  apertures  of 
the  instrument  at  the  same  object.   They  seemed  to 


THE  DREAM  OF  A  P AIMER. 


19 


be  extremely  intent  on  tbeir  employment,  and  so 
absorbed  as  not  to  perceive  we  were  in  the  room,  as 
we  stood  at  a  little  distance  from  them,  and  indeed  I 
had  a  notion  that  they  were  both  of  them  very  short 
sighted.  As  1  was  not  sufficiently  actjuainted  with  the 
subject  to  discover  v/hat  it  was  tliey  looked  at  with  so 
much  earnestness,  I  applied  to  my  instructor,  when 
he  informed  me  that  those  two  ingenious  personages 
were  no  other  than  the  Chevalier  Adrian  Yander 
Welf,  and  the  no  less  famous  Balthasar  Deuncr,  wlio 
were  now  deeply  intent  on  solving  a  problem  of  much 
importance  in  their  mode  of  study,  which  was  to  split 
a  hair  of  a  lady's  eyebrow,  in  order  to  investigate  if  it 
was  solid  or  tubulated ;  as  such  a  difference  would 
produce  a  great  effect  on  its  appearance  and  colour. 
This,  at  present,  they  could  not  accomplish,  but  would 
most  certainly  do  it  by  patience  and  time.  I  inquired 
of  my  guide  if  we  were  to  wait  there  till  the  experi- 
ment was  completed,  when  we  were  suddenly  inter- 
rupted by  the  accidental  falling  from  its  stand,  of  an 
ivory  Yenus,  the  performance  of  the  Chevalier;  this 
accident  much  surprised  and  discomposed  them,  as 
the  figure  was  broken  to  pieces  by  the  fall,  but  when 
they  had  recovered  their  tranquillity  they  returned  to 
their  business  as  intently  as  before  ;  we  now  left  them 
together  to  take  their  own  time  to  finish  the  delicate 
work  on  which  they  were  engaged.  On  quitting  tliis 
chamber  we  presently  found  ourselves  on  a  beautiful 
terrace  at  the  entrance  of  a  palace.  "  Now"  said  my 
attentive  instructor,  "  as  a  contrast  to  all  those  foreign 
scenes  which  you  have  been  shown,  I  shall  finish  my 
lesson  at  this  time  by  presenting  you  with  an  English 
triumph" — When  waving  his  hand  there  gradually 
came  to  my  sight  a  most  pleasing  landscape  as  we 
viewed  it  from  the  terrace ;  we  presently  saw  a  per- 
son who  descended  to  us  from  a  higiier  walk  by  a 
flight  of  steps  which  communicated  with  the  place  on 
which  we  stood.  His  manner  at  once  distinguished 
him  as  a  man  of  refined  mind,  his  carriage  was  unas- 
suming, gentk;  and  simple  to  the  utmost  degree  j  he 


go  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

appeared  to  be  untouched  by  vanity,  although  at- 
tended by  a  great  company  of  grave  pliilosophers. 
divines,  and  poets,  who  all  paid  him  homage,  which 
he  received  with  the  humility  and  simplicity  of  a  child, 
as  if  unconscious  of  its  worth  or  of  his  own  deserts. 
He  was  met  on  the  terrace  by  the  most  fascinating 
group  of  females  that  can  be  imagined,  who  displayed 
their  beautiful  figures  in  light  draperies,  in  all  the 
varieties  of  exquisite  grace,  their  fine  hair  in  ringlets 
floating  in  the  air.  With  tliem  were  intermixed  a 
number  of  elegant  children  who  by  the  pure  unsophis- 
ticated beauty  of  nature,  or  the  playful  affectations  of 
infant  innocence  rendered  themselves  objects  of  infinite 
delight;  all  of  whom  joined  him  in  a  kind  of  proces- 
sion, while  he  by  turns  paid  equal  attention  to  all, 
and  seemed  to  give  pleasure  and  importance  to  all 
alike :  mean  while  the  varying  landscape  back  ground 
to  this  group  produced  a  perpetual  and  amusing 
change ;  now  we  saw  the  sun-beams  darting  through 
the  foliage ;  then  the  scene  would  present  the  soothing 
tranquillity  of  the  setting  sun;  the  trees  partook  of  all 
the  varied  colours  of  the  autumnal  season;  whilst 
orange,  red,  yellow,  and  green,  diversified  the  splen- 
did rural  scene. 

I  followed  with  my  eyes  this  bewitching  assembly 
as  long  as  it  was  in  view.  I  wislicd  if  possible,  it 
could  return.  I  regretted  the  privation  I  suifered,  as 
nothing  I  had  seen  gave  me  such  heartfelt  gratifica- 
tion;  but  my  wish  was  vain,  it  faded  from  my  sight. 

"  You  have  now  seen  pass,"  said  the  Genius,  "  my 
last,  my  favourite  pupil,  and  my  delight.*' 

I  was  enraptured  with  pleasure,  when  on  a  sudden 
a  dreadful  burst  of  thunder  that  seemed  as  if  it  had 
torn  the  earth  in  twain  brought  me  to  my  original 
state,  and  I  found  myself  reposing  on  the  steps  of  the 
altar  in  the  little  oratory  of  St.  Pius  the  Fifth. 


THE 


PAINTER 


AND  THE 


PHILOSOPHER 


It  is  a  sagacious  observation,  which  has  often  been 
repeated,  that  every  man  can  bear  the  misfortunes  of 
another  with  much  more  tranquillity  than  he  can  his 
own.  It  is  no  less  true,  that  we  often  over-rate,  and 
see  magnified,  those  evils  which  fall  to  our  lot,  from 
our  not  being  able  to  bring  them  into  comparison 
with  those  which  assail  our  neighbour.  External  ap- 
pearances frequently  deceive  us;  and  could  we  but 
be  sensible  of  the  sufferings  of  many  of  those  whom 
we  behold  with  envy,  it  would  tend  much  to  reconcile 
us  to  our  own  fate. 

A  fable  occurs  to  my  memory,  which  I  had  lately 
occasion  to  repeat  to  a  friend  of  mine,  who  complained 
to  me  bitterly  of  the  miseries  of  his  profession  as  a 
painter.  **  You,"  said  he,  ^^  who  are  an  artist,  cannot 
be  unacquainted  with  the  burthens  which  lie  heavy  on 
the  shoulders  of  poor  mortals  in  that  walk  of  life,  I 
am  fatigued  to  death  by  a  succession  of  sitters,''  (a 
term  given  to  those  who  come  to  have  their  portraits 
drawn  ;)  "  and  if  I  had  none,  my  case  would  still  be 
worse :   some  of  these/'  continued  he,   ^*  being  new 

3  A 


23  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

coiners,  are  of  course  on  their  £;oo(l  behaviour  to  gain 
my  favour  by  flattery,  in  order  timt  I  may  exert  myself 
and  do  my  best  for  them,  just  as  kind  words  are  given 
io  a  dentist  who  is  going  to  pull  out  your  teeth,  or  as 
M  purse  of  guineas  is  frequently  given  by  a  criminal  to 
liis  executioner  ;  others  of  ray  employers  have  passed 
<heir  final  sitting,  when  there  only  remains  that  disa- 
greeable ceremony  to  be  performed  of  paying  for  the 
picture,  and  then  their  invention  is  at  work  to  find 
iiow  tliey  may  best  be  enabled  to  skulk  from  that 
odious  part  of  the  business;  and  these  unfortunately 
think,  that  the  more  they  teaze  you  the  better  they 
sliall  escape.  * 

In  short,  the  importunity  of  ignorance,  the  discon- 
tent of  vanity,  and  the  imposition  of  meanness,  to- 
gether with  the  confinement  and  constant  labour,  have 
sickened  me  of  the  profession;  and  I  am  become 
wlioUy  dissatisfied  with  ray  lot  in  life,  and  begin  to 
think,  tliat  of  all  situations  under  the  sun,  that  of  a 
portrait  painter  is  the  worst  and  raost  vexatious.  1 
am  therefore  considering  with  myself  what  is  best  to 
be  done  in  my  circumstances ;  for  to  some  other  course 
of  life  I  am  fully  determined  to  change,  without  any 
fear  of  changing  for  the  wors^e.*' 

This  weak  and  impatient  harangue  moved  me  with 
more  displeasure  than  pity :  "  my  good  friend,"  I 
said,  "  have  patience,  and  I  will  read  you  a  fable,  to 
divert  your  mind  from  its  present  annoyance."  I  then 
took  up  my  common  place  book,  and  read  out  of  it 
the  following  tale,  which  I  had  copied  from  an  East- 
ern author. 

Hassan  was  a  younger  son  of  a  merchant  of  Bagdad, 
who,  loaded  w  ith  a  large  family  of  children  for  whom 
he  was  bound  to  provide,  and  having  suffered  many 
losses  in  trade,  had  it  not  in  his  power  to  bestow  much 
on  his  offspring,  beyond  a  good  education,  in  the 
seminaries  of  the  learned. 

Hassan  was  active  and  ambitious,  and  for  a  con- 
siderable time  devoted  himself  with  intense  applica- 
tion to  the  study  of  letters  and  the  sciences;  filled  with 


THE  PAINTER  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER.      23 

youthful  hopes  of  gaining  eminence  as  a  learned 
professor.  But  at  length  his  ardour  failed  him :  he, 
saw  that  the  labour  of  gaining  distinction  and  superi- 
ority by  the  means  which  he  had  adopted  was  great 
and  unavoidable,  but  that  the  success  was,  at  last. 
precarious  and  uncertain.  It  was  evident  to  him,  that 
ids  youth  must  be  spent  in  solitude,  and,  perhaps,  his 
old  age  in  poverty ;  that  his  competitors  were  numer- 
ous, and  the  prize  could  be  gained  but  by  a  few. 

Thus  indolence  prompted  reflections  tliat  forboded. 
ill  fortune.  "  I  will  no  longer  endure,"  said  he, 
'^  this  life  of  an  hermit,  I  will  raise  what  money  I 
can  by  the  sale  of  my  books,  and  with  it  procure  for 
myself  the  best  situation  it  will  afford,  as  a  soldier  in 
the  great  Sultan's  army;  when  I  may  spend  my  life, 
without  the  annoyance  of  thought,  in  idleness  and 
dissipation ;  where  dress  will  be  all  my  study,  and 
pleasure  all  my  business." 

Such  were  the  reflectiims  with  which  Hassan 
amused  himself,  as  he  wandered  by  tiie  side  of  a 
river,  under  the  shade  of  a  grove  of  palm  trees :  the 
sun  was  just  setting,  after  a  serene  and  beautiful  day, 
when  seating  himself  on  the  bank,  he  cast  his  eye.s 
around,  to  view  the  tranquil  charms  of  the  scene,  and 
perceived  an  aged  person  approaching  him,  cloathed 
in  a  loose  flowing  robe  of  purple.  Tiiis  venerable 
man  made  signs  to  him  to  follow.  Hassan  instantly 
rose  from  his  seat,  as  he  saw  by  the  whole  appearance 
of  the  stranger,  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear,  and 
directed  his  steps  to  join  him :  they  soon  quitted  the 
grove,  and  walking  on  for  some  space,  a  rocky  moun- 
tain appeared  before  them,  which,  till  then,  had  been 
hid  from  their  sight  by  the  wood.  The  Sage  now 
entered  at  a  cavity  in  the  rock,  and  Hassan  followed 
him ;  they  proceeded  in  darkness,  through  this  gloomy 
passage  to  a  spacious  apartment,  which  was  furnished 
in  such  a  manner,  as  to  show  that  it  was  the  study  of 
a  philosopher.  The  only  light,  by  which  the  room 
was  illuminated,  was  from  a  lamp,  which  hung  sus- 
pended from  the  ceiling,  in  the  centre  of  the  chamber. 


g4,  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

As  pliilosophers  always  make  a  point  of  wasting  as 
little  time  as  possible,  he  turned  towards  Hassan, 
and  without  further  ceremony,  thus  addressed  him : 
*^  Young  man,  I  can  perceive  that  you  are  dissatisfied 
with  your  lot  in  life,  and  wisli  to  change  it;  therefore 
I  have  purposed  to  present  you  with  a  spectacle, 
suited  to  the  disposition  of  your  mind  at  this  time : 
more  from  me  would  be  unnecessary  at  present/'  He 
ilien  drew  aside  a  curtain,  and  discovered  under  it  a 
perspective  glass,  into  which  he  desired  liim  to  look. 
Hassan  readily  obeyed  the  order,  when,  to  his  great 
delight,  he  beheld  a  general  officer  marching  at  the 
head  of  his  well  equipped  and  disciplined  army;  full 
of  spirits,  just  setting  out  on  an  expedition,  in  which 
rich  plunder  was  to  be  expected.  A  sight  so  very 
congenial  to  the  future  views  of  Hassan  was  gratifying 
in  the  utmost  degree,  and  his  heart  glowing  with 
unusual  warmth,  he  returned  his  acknowledgments  to 
the  Sage  for  the  pleasure  he  had  received.  *'  Young 
man,''  replied  the  philosopher,  "  you  have  seen  but 
half  the  picture,  thank  me  when  you  have  contem- 
plated the  whole ;  scenes  which  will  interest  you  much 
are  to  come :  look  again  into  the  same  glass."  Hassan 
quickly  complied,  but  his  astonishment  cannot  be 
described,  when  he  beheld  the  change  which  had 
taken  place.  Such  a  spectacle  presented  itself  to  view 
as  would  have-  struck  the  most  obdurate  heart  with 
dismay,  and  forced  tears  from  eyes  that  never  wept 
before.  At  first  the  same  General  appeared  and  still 
surrounded  by  a  retinue,  but  now  so  changed,  muti- 
lated, and  forlorn,  that  it  was  deplorable  in  the  ex- 
treme. Then  followed  scene  after  scene  in  melancholy 
succession,  representing  all  the  varieties  of  war.  In 
these  were  shown  the  different  fates  of  an  infinite 
number  of  young  men,  many  of  whom  were  born  to 
plentiful  fortunes,  and  had  been  bred  by  tender 
parents  with  every  convenieucy  and  luxury,  but  now 
were  seen  plunged  into  that  abyss  of  misery  which 
ever  lies  open  to  the  chances  of  war.  Some  starved 
In  loathsome  hospitals  and  prisons,  others  dead  in 


THE  PAINTER  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER.       g5 

ditches  and  half  devoured  by  dogs,  many  parched 
and  scarred  by  the  explosion  of  gunpowder,  vast 
numbers  drowned  in  rivers  and  the  sea,  and  serving 
as  food  for  fishes,  some  mangled  and  hewed  to  pieces 
by  horrid  wounds,  some  trampled  to  death  under 
horses'  feet,  and  others  begging  bread  on  the  road, 
who  after  having  spilt  their  blood  and  exposed  their 
lives  to  a  thousand  calamities,  had  not  now  wherewith 
to  carry  them  back  to  that  home,  which  to  their  mis- 
fortune they  had  so  foolishly  abandoned — one  pitiable 
scene  was  that  of  a  young  nobleman,  who  had  been 
killed  by  the  bursting  of  a  shell — "  Ah,"  said  the 
Sage,  "  behold  this  unfortunate  cavalier!  A  famous 
astrologer  had  foretold  by  his  art,  that  if  this  rash 
youth  had  been  wise  enough  to  have  remained  at 
home,  he  would  have  lived  to  the  age  of  fourscore 
years.  AVretched  mortal,  what  desperate  and  fatal 
frenzy  possessed  thee  to  sell  sixty  years  for  a  rupee !" 
Hassan,  now  terrified  by  the  awful  succession  of 
horrid  scenery,  withdrew  his  aching  eyes  from  the 
sight,  and  scarcely  able  to  support  his  own  weight, 
bowed  with  reverence  and  kissed  the  earth.  ^^  Go," 
said  the  Sage,  ^'  and  learn  patience:  know  that 
labour  and  anxiety  are  the  lot  of  mortals,  and  that 
affluence  and  content  are  not  the  portion  of  the  vain 
or  idle:  learn  to  be  satisfied  with  that  station,  of 
which  you  know  the  evils,  rather  than  run  the  hazard 
of  venturing  on  any  other  of  which  you  have  had  no 
experience." 


This  tale  had  a  very  salutary  effect  on  the  mind  of 
my  querulous  friend;  he  felt  its  full  force,  when, 
ludicrously  imitating  the  action  of  Hassan,  he  pros- 
trated himself  on  the  floor,  kissed  it,  and  treating  me 
as  if  I  had  been  the  real  philosopher,  took  his  formal 
leave  in  a  much  better  disposition  than  when  he  en- 
tered. 


26  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

But  for  my  own  part  I  think  there  is  another  view 
in  which  this  moral  lesson  may  be  taken.  As  often  as 
I  have  coLteraplated  this  fable,  it  has  filled  my  mind 
with  a  succession  of  thoughts  of  a  different  kind.  The 
Sage  when  he  presented  this  vision  to  the  young  man, 
showed  him  that  which  is  to  come,  to  warn  him  for 
his  future  good. 

This  glass  represented  equally  that  which  is  to 
happen,  as  well  as  that  which  has  already  passed ; 
and  in  like  manner  when  I  have  by  chance  surveyed 
a  picture,  representing  some  awful  scene  in  history, 
some  event  of  time  long  passed,  a  melancholy  reflec- 
tion has  crossed  my  mind,  that  similar  wretchedness 
to  that  which  is  depicted  is  again  and  again  to  hap- 
pen; that  the  same  causes  remaining,  the  like  effects 
will  follow :  and  most  pitiable  is  it  to  reflect,  that  all 
those  dreadful  examples,  which  have  been  so  often 
exhibited,  should  serve  so  little  to  forewarn  us  of  our 
danger,  or  move  us  sufficiently  to  strive  against  it, 
even  by  the  means  which  are  yet  left  within  out 
power,  so  as  to  prevent,  or  in  some  degree  lessen,  the 
mass  of  calamity  which  is  ever  generating  in  the 
teeming  womb  of  time. 

There  is  a  solemn  pleasure  in  the  mind,  when  it 
contemplates  the  awful  records  of  history  ;  when  we 
read  the  page  or  view  the  picture,  we  feel  almost  an 
equal  degree  of  interest  to  that  which  would  be  called 
forth  if  the  scene  was  actually  passing  before  us  at 
the  time;  our  anger  is  raised  against  those  who  have 
acted  basely,  and  equal  pity  towards  those  who  have 
suffered  wrongs,  although  they  have  long  been  re- 
moved beyond  the  reach  of  misery,  and  their  existence 
is  only  known  to  us  in  description  and  a  name  :  yet  we 
cast  no  thought  on  iiiQ  future  victims  of  mischance, 
and  far  from  our  minds  at  all  times  are  sensations  of 
compassion  for  those  who  are  to  be  the  actors  on  the 
world's  great  stage,  thousands  destined  to  become  the 
prey  of  innumerable  calamities  which  ever  struggle 
for  entrance  at  the  gates  of  life  to  assail  each  new- 
born heir  of  sorrow.    Yet  at  first  thought  it  should 


THE  PAINTER  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER.       27 

seem  much  more  reasonable  to  feel  compassion  for 
those  who  are  yet  to  suffer  than  for  those  whose  pains 
are  ended  and  over  for  ever. 

It  is  surely  an  awful  reflection  to  consider  how 
many  temptations  lie  in  wait  to  allure  to  destruction  the 
heedless  victims  of  vice.  How  much  uuspun  misery 
is  yet  on  the  distaff  of  Fate  !  How  big  tlie  womb  of 
Nature  with  unborn  evil,  that  must  be  endured  by 
generatit)ns  yet  to  come  !  But  our  feelings  are  not  of 
that  vivid  kind  as  to  operate,  unless  when  stimulated 
by  examples  which  have  been  made  clear  to  our 
senses. 

I  have  often  contemplated,  with  melancholy,  the 
neglected  excellencies  of  Hogarth,  Wilson,  Caracci, 
Claude  Lorraine,  and  others,  who,  while  tliey  lived 
and  could  have  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  their  fame,  met 
only  with  poverty  and  contempt.  I  foresee,  in  their 
sad  example,  the  future  sufferings  of  artists  yet  unborn, 
"who  will  be  obliged  to  suffer  humbly  a  like  fate,  and 
patiently  to  see  the  works  of  their  predecessors  (who 
have  passed  their  period  of  neglect)  placed  in  the  posts 
of  honor,  and  extolled  as  works  divine,  whilst  their 
own  will  be  treated  with  coldness  or  contempt,  al- 
though, at  the  same  time,  some  of  them,  at  least,  may 
possess  qualities  of  much  higher  excellence  than  many 
of  those  productions  to  which  bigotry,  ignorance, 
or  interest  will  force  them  to  give  place.  For  the  con- 
stant example  of  the  world  will  demonstrate,  that 
those  very  works,  by  which  the  artist,  when  living, 
could  procure  neither  emolument,  attention,  nor  re- 
spect, are,  after  his  death,  held  up  as  objects  of  per- 
fection, unattainable  by  any  existing  talents,  while 
the  timorous  claimant  to  excellence  is  treated  with 
scorn  and  derision. 

"  See  nations  slowly  wise,  and  meanly  just, 
To  buried  merit  raise  tlie  tardy  bust." 


THE 

SLIGHTED  BEAUTY, 

OR    THE 

ADVENTURES  OF  AN  UNFORTUNATE  I-ADY ; 

INCLUDING 

A  CONCISE  VIEW 

OF    THE 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  FINE  ARTS 

JJV  VARIOUS  PARTS  OF  EUROPE. 


"  And  what's  her  history  ? 
«  A  blank,  my  Lord." 

Twelfth  JVight,  or  what  you  wilL 


3   B 


DEDICATION 


SHADE, 

MASTER  OF  ART,  THE  FRIEJ^D  OF  ARTISTS 
AJVD  OF  MAJVKLXD. 


May  it  please  your  Excellency, 

Truly  sensible  of  the  abborrence  in  which 
your  Excellency  holds  every  thing  like  show  or  os- 
tentation, and  that  your  chief  delight  is  to  sliun  all  no- 
toriety, ever  bestowing  your  patronage  most  liberally 
on  those  only  who  possess  diffidence,  modesty,  and 
merit,  I  fear,  by  this  public  address,  I  shall  intrude 
on  your  repose,  and  I  feel  the  impropriety  of  so  doing; 
yet  being  well  assured  tiiat  ray  work  must  ultimately 
find  its  safest  retreat  under  your  all-powerful  shelter, 
and  having  also  experienced  so  many  favours  from 
the  influence  of  your  clemency,  I  am  now  emboldened 
to  lay  this  my  production  at  your  Excellency's  feet ; 
for  if  the  brightest  diamond  seems  to  receive  new 
lustre  in  your  presence,  why  should  I  not  hope  that 
some  benefit  may  accrue  from  it  to  ray  work  of  paste : 
and,  added  to  this,  that  the  opinions  of  ray  friends,  as 
well  as  my  enemies,  most  cordially  concur  with  mine, 
in  placing  my  chief  reliance  on  what  your  Excellency 
may  do  for  me,  and  they  all  acknowledge  my  pru- 
dence in  so  doing. 

I  dare  not  hope  for  greater  favour  than  you  can 
bestow ;  therefore,  of  necessity,  my  labours  must  be 
dedicated  to  you  alone. 


3S  DEDICATION. 

That  mildness  in  your  nature,  which  makes  you 
screen  the  defects  of  all  \vho  crave  your  assistance,  is 
a  characteristic  mark  of  your  benevolent  disposition, 
and  i^ains  you  the  love  of  all  mankind. 

Whilst  the  greatest  of  Kings  or  Emperors,  quitting 
awhile  their  dignily,  and  descending  from  their 
tlirones,  must  court  your  favour,  you  most  humbly 
condescend  to  be  the  universal  friend  of  every  species 
of  wretchedness. 

The  most  proliigate  of  sinners  prostrate  before  you 
implore  your  aid.  'Tis  you  who  stand  the  only  bul- 
wark that  misery  can  raise  against  insult.  Nor  is 
your  Excellency  in  the  smaller  acts  of  humanity  less 
ample  in  your  mercy.  How  often  does  the  poor 
Artist,  in  the  difficulties  of  his  profession,  fly  to  you 
for  succour;  who  receive  him  with  compassion,  soften 
all  his  misdeeds,  conceal  those  deformities  which  he 
cannot  mend,  unite  and  connect  his  dissipated  mate- 
rials, and  if  nothing  better  can  be  done,  you  hide  him 
from  derision,  disgrace,  and  scorn. 

Kind  protector  of  the  simple,  safe  friend  of  the 
weak,  who,  under  your  auspices,  are  exposed  neither 
to  danger  nor  contempt,  whilst  shame  and  confusion 
await  those  rash  fools  who  rush  headlong  from  your 
retreats,  still  keep  me  in  your  favour!  and  when  at 
last  my  mortal  course  is  finished,  and  I  am  become 
wholly  devoted  to  you,  then,  in  pity  to  my  imperfec- 
tions, kindly  unite  with  Time  and  Death  to  soften  thcr 
memory  of  all  my  errors  past! 

May  it  please  your  Excellency, 
I  am,  my  Lord, 

With  bounden  duty, 
Your  Excellency's  most  humble  slave, 

THE  AUTHOR, 

And  a  Fiuend  to  the  Slighted  Beauty^ 
From  my  Skij-light, 
Feb.W,  1811, 


THE 

SLIGHTED  BEAUTY. 


BOOK  I. 

Rei  simulacrum  et  imago 
Ante  oculos  semper  nobis  versatur  et  instat 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  person  whose  history  I  here  relate,  is  well 
known  to  many;  therefore,  as  we  are  able,  we  ought 
to  be  willing  to  assist  our  friend  by  every  lau liable 
means  in  our  power;  and,  those  who  understand  her 
sorrows,  ought  to  become  her  champions,  prove  her 
blameless  before  the  world,  and  shew  that  her  low 
and  degraded  condition  is  not  her  fault,  but  her  mis- 
fortune only ;  and  that,  by  a  little  attention  and  decent 
good  usaa;e,  she  might  have  become  the  ornament  of 
the  kingdom  and  the  delight  of  Europe, 

The  matter,  to  which  I  solicit  tlie  attention  of  com- 
passionate readers,  is  what  is  commonly  called  a  case. 
It  is  the  true  and  most  piteous  case  of  a  Slighted 
Beauty,  who  is  not  yet  quite  dead,  and  therefore  may 
be  recovered  and  restored  to  her  friends.  I  have  con- 
cealed her  name  by  her  own  desire,  because  she,  with 
her  usual  sweetness  and  modesty,  said,  she  did  not 
wish  to  come  before  the  public  as  a  complaining  suf- 
ferer, but  chose  to  pine  in  obscurity,  rather  than  ap- 
pear as  an  impertinent  intruder; — that  was  her  very 
expression.  I  candidly  told  her,  I  was  unused  to 
writing,  and  therefore  much  feared  I  should  not  do 


3^  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

her  cause  that  justice  which  it  deserved.  "  Ah !''  said 
she,  "  we  must  depend  ^on  the  force  of  truth  alone, 
which  may  do  more,  and  make  a  greater  impression 
on  the  tender-hearted,  than  even  eloquence  itself;  for 
I  have  often  observed,  that  simple  and  unadorned 
truth  has  in  its  nature  a  power  which  neither  the 
highest  art  nor  most  fertile  invention  can  supply ;  and 
sorrow  sometimes  makes  even  silence  her  best  aid, 
and  her  best  orator." 

I  sat  a  good  while  with  her,  and  we  had  a  long 
consultation  on  what  would  be  the  best  and  most 
effectual  mode  of  delivering  her  story,  so  as  to  draw 
attention  from  an  idle  or  a  busy  world;  and,  in  the 
end,  she  kindly  paid  me  tlie  compliment  to  say,  that 
she  should  place  full  confidence  in  my  will,  as  well 
as  in  ray  power,  and  left  me  entirely  to  my  own  dis- 
cretion to  act  as  I  thought  best. 

I  have,  therefore,  related  her  case  in  the  manner  of 
a  narrative,  from  the  time  of  her  birth  to  the  moment  I 
was  sitting  at  her  bed-side,  where  she  was  confined 
by  a  sad  cold,  caught,  I  believe,  by  wearing  wet 
shoes. 

I  have  so  sincere  a  friendship  for  this  lady,  that  I 
am  filled  with  apprehensions  of  not  having  given  her 
case  that  entertaining  and  attractive  air,  which  might 
create  an  interest  for  her  suffering  virtues,  and  make 
her  painful  situation  sufficiently  known  for  her  own 
benefit.  I  was  always  a  great  lover  of  strict  and  hard 
truth,  and  have  told  her  disastrous  history  without 
any  of  those  beautifying  incidents  which  captivate  the 
polite  readers  of  the  present  day.  This  compendium 
of  sorrows  is  no  novel  of  invention,  from  which  are  to 
be  expected  astonishing  adventures  and  hair-breadth 
escapes ;  it  contains  no  scenes  of  disappointment  and 
distracted  love,  no  display  of  unexampled  villainy,  no 
ghosts,  witches,  enchantments,  foundlings,  sentimental 
court  ladies,  philosophers,  waiting-maids,  lords,  game- 
sters, assassins,  or  inn-keepers.  Moreover,  the  per- 
fections and  imperfections  of  my  unfortunate  friend 
are  here  set  down  without  fancied  or  fantastic  ex- 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  35 

aggerations.  In  short,  the  whole  interest  must  depend 
on  its  being  received  as  a  simple  and  true  statement 
of  her  sad  case ;  and  I  now  deliver  it  to  the  world, 
with  the  hope  it  may  be  of  service  to  her,  equal  to  my 
wish  to  serve  her. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Of  the  Education  and  personal  Perfections  of  our 
Heroine  and  how  she  became  the  adopted  Daughter 
of  a  Sovereign  Prince. 

The  enchanting,  but  unfortunate  young  lady,  whose 
memoirs  are  the  subject  of  the  following  sad  pages, 
was  not  more  eminent  for  her  extraordinary  accom- 
plishments, than  for  the  ill-treatment  wliich  she  has 
experienced  in  her  progress  through  life;  and  which 
ill-treatment  is  the  more  to  be  marvelled  at,  when  we 
take  into  consideration  tlie  auspicious  appearance  of 
her  early  years,  and  the  fortunate  circumstances  which 
attended  them;  all  which  I  shall  presently  relate. 

As  to  her  birtli,  no  very  clear  account  of  it  can  be 
given;  but  her  family  is  said  to  be  of  very  great 
antiquity,  and  she  herself  is  supposed  to  be  descend- 
ed, in  a  direct  line,  from  the  great  Apelles,  of  ever- 
lasting fame.  This,  I  believe,  is  a  literal  truth,  and 
no  false  emblazonment  made  out  through  thick  and 
thin,  in  imitation  of  those  liberal  minded  gentlemen, 
the  heralds,  who  possess  so  much  of  the  milk  of 
human  kindness,  that  they  make  but  little  difficulty  in 
decorating  with  two  or  three  hundred  years  of  an- 
cestry those  lucky  children  of  poverty  who  have 
gained  high  titles,  no  matter  how;  whether  by  virtue, 
or  by  vice.  It  is  fully  suflRcient  for  my  purpose,  to 
inform  the  gentle  reader,  that  the  family  of  our  heroine 
had  indeed  lain  for  a  very  long  time  in  obscurity, 
and,  as  I  may  say,  under  a  cloud;  but  its  character 
was  still  so  much  respected  in  the  country  in  which 


36  ^  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

she  was  born,  tliat  no  sooner  was  her  birth  declared, 
than  she  was  adopted  by  the  sovereign,  and  imme- 
diately intrusted  to  tlie  care  of  a  venerable  matron,  to 
whose  extraordinary  virtues  and  knowledge,  he  him- 
self was  indebted,  not  only  for  the  great  strength  he 
had  acquired  in  his  limbs  during  his  infancy,  but  also 
for  the  surprising  influence  which  he  afterwards 
gained  in  his  own  dominions,  and  those  of  his  neigh- 
bours; and  happy  would  it  have  been  for  him,  and 
for  the  rest  of  mankind,  if  he  had  continued  to  con- 
form to  her  sage  counsels,  and  had  not  indulged  him- 
self in  so  many  of  his  own  capricious  whims  and 
fancies  as  he  afterwards  shewed ;  for  he  was  a  prince 
of  despotic  power,  and  of  the  highest  order  of  sov- 
ereigns. 

This  potentate  was  somewhat  singular  in  his  char- 
acter ;  and  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  inform  the 
reader  of  some  of  tliose  singularities,  that  he  may 
have  the  clearer  idea  of  the  kind  of  education  and 
manner  of  life  in  which  our  young  heroine  was 
brought  up  under  this  fond  patron. 

In  the  first  place,  he  might  be  considered,  without 
any  dispute,  as  the  most  learned  prince  in  Europe, 
having  a  consummate  knowledge  of  the  world;  a 
master  of  politics;  and,  for  all  matters  of  taste,  ex- 
quisite in  his  perceptions  beyond  all  competition;  and 
so  supreme  was  his  dominion,  (in  his  own  opinion,  at 
least,)  that  he  conceived  he  had  not  only  the  command 
over  the  bodies  of  his  subjects,  but  that  their  souls  also 
were  at  his  disposal.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  there 
was  such  a  mildness  in  his  government  over  all  those 
who  acknowledged  his  whimsical  authority,  that  his 
indulgencies  became  a  proverb ;  for  he  has  often  and 
often  been  known  to  grant  a  free  pardon  to  such  as 
most  richly  deserved  to  have  been  hanged,  and,  more- 
over, to  bestow  his  blessing  on  them.  But  then  he 
could  not  bear  the  least  contradiction,  and,  on  fre- 
quent occasions,  would  fall  into  paroxysms  of  rage, 
and  pour  out  such  a  volley  of  frightful  oaths  and 
curses,  that  it  would  have  made  your  hair  stand  an 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  37 

end  only  to  have  heard  them.  He  would  most  gladly 
have  seen  the  objects  of  his  wrath  burnt  to  a  cinder 
without  mercy,  and  actually  has  coramanded  those 
deeds  of  cruelty  to  be  executed  on  certain  culprits, 
when  he  could  lay  hold  on  them ;  whicli  made  all 
those  who  had  oflfended  him  keep  out  of  his  reach. 
Yet,  that  he  was  a  wise  prince,  cannot  be  denied,  in 
spite  of  the  many  odd  humours  to  which  I  have  said 
he  was  subject;  one  of  which  was,  that  he  would  al- 
ways  persist  in  wearing  three  crowns  upon  his  head 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  He  was  also  surprizingly 
devout,  and  spent  a  very  large  portion  of  his  time  in 
prayer  and  religious  ceremonies;  for  he  was  the  su- 
preme head  of  liis  church,  and  supremely  partial  to 
its  interest  and  aggrandisement.  To  this  is  to  be 
added,  that  whatever  end  he  desired  to  gain,  was 
sought  for  by  any  species  of  means  best  fitted  to  his 
purpose;  sometimes  by  eminent  learning,  piety,  or 
virtue;  sometimes  by  art  and  cunning;  and  sometimes 
he  gained  his  wish  by  the  mere  chance  of  good  for 
tune. 

Such,  then,  was  the  nature  of  tliat  court  in  which 
our  favoured  heroine  received  the  first  impressions  on 
her  mind;  but,  although  thus  nursed  hy  Fortune,  and 
assisted  by  powerful  patronage  and  adoption,  all 
seemed  less  than  her  deserts,  and,  when  balanced  in 
the  scale  against  her  own  various  accomplishments^ 
was  but  as  chaif  weighed  against  gold. 

Her  person,  even  from  her  childhood,  was  beautiful, 
and,  as  she  grew  up,  became  a  model  of  the  most 
perfect  proportion.  Indeed^  it  was  a  common  saying, 
that  the  Medicean  Venus  might  have  passed  for  her 
portrait,  or  that  she  herself  had  heen  formed  from  that 
statue.  Her  mind  was  not  less  accomplislied  than  her 
body,  and  each  seemed  to  strive  with  the  other  for 
pre-eminence.  The  gracefulness  of  her  action  was 
like  that  to  be  seen  in  the  liighest  eiforts  of  design  by 
Parmegiano,  accompanied  by  a  melting  softness  and 
sweetness,  such  as  we  find  only  in  the  pictures  of 
Correggio,  and  which  cannot  be  described  by  words. 
3  G 


38  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

The  faseinalins;  cxpi-ession  of  Iter  eyes  and  coiinle' 
nance,  niii:;hl  vie  nilli  the  utmost  exertions  of  the 
j)encil  of  Raphael  liimself,  and  was  attended  with  all 
Iiis  simplicity;  and  the  textnre  of  her  skin,  and  glow 
of  her  complexion,  can  only  be  compared  to  the  hap- 
\)iest  tints  of  Titian.  AVhen  slie  became  animated  by 
extraordinary  events,  she  could  assume  a  dignity  of 
deportment  tiiat  would  astouisli,  and  raise  herself  to 
be  on  a  par  with  the  snldiraity  of  Michael  Angelo : 
then,  again,  soften  into  all  the  exfpjisite  feminine  mild- 
ness, beauty,  or  patient  piety,  expressed  by  Guido  or 
Domenichino.  ller  dress  was  regulated  l)y  that  taste, 
which  no  ride  can  give  or  controul:  it  comprehended 
all  the  advantages  of  the  ancient  statues;  it  displayed 
all  the  perfectiojis  of  iier  exquisite  form,  yet  seemed 
like  the  garb  of  purity  itself.  She  despised  all  trivial 
ornaments,  and  indeed,  as  the  poet  says,  appeared 
'*  most  adorned*'  without  them.  Siie  was,  from  her 
cradle,  the  subject  of  universal  admiration,  yet  flattery 
never  made  iier  vain  to  her  detriment:  it  only  in- 
creased her  desire  to  deserve  praise;  beautiful  with- 
out conceit,  graceful  without  ailectation,  playful  w  ilh- 
out  vulgarity,  grand  without  arrogance,  soft  without 
weakness,  and  wise  without  austerity. 

Thus  accom'plislied,  it  is  natural  to  sup|>ose  that 
she  must  have  been  sought  after  and  cotirted  by 
princes  of  the  greatest  kingdoms,  and  that  happiness 
must  have  been  her  lot;  but  this  record  will  serve  to 
shew,  how  uncertain  are  all  the  fortunes  of  this  life. 
Her  patron  father  had  often  promised  to  deck  her 
w  ith  piincely  honours  and  titles;  but  various  accidents 
interrupted  those  intentions,  so  that  they  never  came 
to  completion.  I  observed  before,  that  from  her  earli- 
est infancy,  she  had  been  intrusted  to  the  care  of  a 
w  ise  and  prudent  governess,  one  w  ho  had  dedicated 
herself  to  the  holy  offices  of  the  church;  and  her 
scholar,  educated  by  her  in  all  its  solemnities,  had 
acquired  a  kind  of  awful,  pensive  dignity  of  demean- 
our, w  hich,  like  nature  itself,  pervaded  her  behaviour 
in  every  action,  and  gave  a  grace  that  seemed  divine. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY. 


3^ 


As  she  was  the  adopted  daughter  of  a  princely  falher, 
who,  it  must  he  rememhered,  was  high-priest  as  woll 
as  temporal  sovereign  of  his  empire,  most  of  her  time. 
in  compliance  with  his  pleasure  as  well  as  her  own 
gratification,  was  dedicated  to  the  pious  service  of  the, 
church,  in  which  she  assisted,  and  adorned  it  with 
surpassing  skill,  judgment,  and  taste.  This  gained 
lier  universaladmiration,  and  tiie  homage  paid  to  her 
was  carried  to  such  an  extent,  that  it  only  fell  short 
of  raising  altars  to  her  name. 


CHAPTER*  lir. 

How  our  Heroine  grew  tired  of  her  father^ s  CouH^ 
and  hoiv  she  set  out  on  her  Travels  to  see  the 
World. 

The  eminence  and  fame  of  our  fair  lady  soon  he- 
came  the  universal  topic  of  conversation,  and  she  was 
earnestly  solicited  by  the  greatest  personages  to  visit 
every  kingdom  of  Europe.  This  highly  gratified  her 
only  foible  (if  it  may  so  be  deemed.)  a  little  tincture  of 
the  romantic,  which  produced  a  desire  to  wander  into 
countries  known  to  her  merely  by  their  names;  and 
when  thus  pressetl  on  every  side,  so  consistently  with 
her  own  inclination,  no  wonder  if  she  easily  yielded, 
and  formed  the  resolution  to  become  a  traveller  and 
see  the  world.  Thus  determined,  she  soon  afterwanU 
quitted  her  father's  court,  accompanied  by  lier  faithful 
protectress,  who  was  firmly  attaciied  to  her  by  the 
strongest  ties  of  friendship,  and  a  kind  of  parental 
affection.  Bhe  received  her  father's  benediction  at 
her  departure,  and,  by  his  command,  a  splendid 
retinue  in  the  service  of  the  church  attended  in  her 
train.  She  rested  at  mnst  of  tlie  cities  in  the  districts 
under  her  father's  dominion,  and  conducted  herself  so 
admirably,  that  she  was  treated  with  little  less  rev- 
erence than  that  wliich  would  liave  been  paid  to  him- 


40  •  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

self  if  present. — She  also  made  a  visit  to  Venice, 
where  she  continued  for  some  time,  appearing  in  great 
splendour;  and  it  was  remarked,  that  the  front  of  her 
palace  was  most  superbly  ornaraente<l,  [and  that  no- 
body had  ever  before  hoisted  sucli  brilliant  colours  on 
their  gondola. — She  tlience  took  the  route  of  Germany, 
and  shortly  after  arrived  in  that  country,  where  she 
was  likewise  received  with  the  utmost  possible  marks 
of  respect,  and  every  honour  was  paid  her  agreeably 
to  the  dignity  of  her  origin  and  connections,  and  her 
own  virtues  and  accomplishments.  What  added 
eminently  to  the  grandeur  of  her  appearance  (which 
seemed  to  claim  respect  above  a  mortal)  was  the 
religious  retinue,  which  still  attended  on  her,  and 
threw  a  sacred  air  over  her,  which  excluded  all  idle 
and  vulgar  intruders. 

But  here  we  may  observe  the  ill  consequences  of 
a  circumstance  which  particularly  affects  those  who 
are  not  of  age  sufficiently  mature  to  have  their  habits 
fixed.  In  Germany,  she  had  no  longer  those  high 
examples  of  conduct  before  her,  which  she  was  wont 
to  contemplate  and  imitate ;  and,  being  suddenly  de- 
prived of  those,  she  scarcely  knew  at  first  how  to  deport 
herself,  and  her  manner  became  stiff',  dry,  and  awk- 
ward; and  when  she  shook  off  this,  and  attempted 
grace  and  greatness,  she  only  made  the  matter  worse, 
by  running  into  absolute  affectation  and  ranting  bom- 
bast.— She  soon  quitted  this  region,  to  gratify  Spain 
with  the  honor  of  her  presence;  and  when  there,  as  if 
inspired  by  that  grave  and  dignified  people,  she  be- 
came herself  again:  her  whole  conduct,  during  her 
stay  in  the  country,  Avas  a  display  of  piety,  dignity, 
and  genius.  She  was  accordingly  treated  with  singu- 
lar attention,  and  loaded  with  honors  and  with  profit. 
She  was  still  iiiuler  the  guidance  of  her  faithful  gov- 
erness, and  in  no  period  of  her  life  did  she  shew  her- 
self a  more  laudible  example  of  universal  imitation  : 
it  is  no  wonder,  tlierefore,  that,  though  urged  by  curi- 
osity anil  strong  desire  to  proceed  on  her  travels,  she 
could  not  leave  Spain  without  regret. — She  quitted 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  •        41 

it  at  length  for  Flanders,  where  she  assumed  a  new 
appearance  and  mode  of  carriage.  In  this  country  it 
was  that  she  made  the  first  considerable  departure 
from  her  original  dignity  and  gravity  of  character. 
Owing  to  the  free  manners  of  the  people  with  wliom 
she  consorted,  and  to  the  continuance  of  absence  from 
her  father's  controul,  she  seemed  by  degrees  (in  lier 
own  apprehension  at  least)  more  at  liberty  to  act  for 
herself;  and,  being  inexperienced  in  the  world,  she 
saw  every  thing  in  a  new  light,  and  felt  great  enjoy- 
ment in  the  state  of  freedom  which  she  conceived  she 
had  attained.  She  found  herself  perfectly  cleared 
from  the  stateliness,  and  (as  it  now  seemed)  gloomy 
<lignity  of  the  solemn  institutions  to  which  she  had 
dedicated  her  first  studies.  Her  deportment  from  this 
time  began  to  alter  greatly.  One  of  the  first  symptoms 
remarkable  in  tiiis  change,  was  the  prodigious  fond- 
ness she  shewed  for  dress  and  every  species  of  finery, 
so  very  contrary  to  any  thing  of  the  kind  which  had 
hitlierto  manifested  itself  in  her  disposition,  except 
when  at  Venice,  where  she  had  acquired  great  credit 
by  the  brilliancy  of  her  appearance  :  a  circumstance 
which  now  encouraged  her  to  carry  it  to  excess,  to 
the  equal  surprise  and  grief  of  her  faithful  protectress, 
who  one  day  saw  her  going  into  public  dressed  out 
with  silks  and  ribbands,  vvhicli  contained  every  gaudy 
colour  of  the  rainbow ;  red,  blue,  yellow,  purple, 
green,  orange,  as  if  striving  vvhich  should  sliew  the 
brightest,  were  fioating  in  the  air  in  all  directions  at 
every  step  slie  took.  She  shewed  also  a  prodigious 
love  for  flowers,  and  frequently  would  adorn  herself 
with  such  enormous  nosegays,  that  at  times  you  could 
not  see  lier  face  for  them.  All  this  fondness  for  shewy 
colours  gave  inexpressible  trouble  to  her  prudent 
guardian,  who  w«>uld  often  enter  into  discourse  on 
the  subject,  and  finish  with  long  and  most  saga 
cious  lectures  and  admonitions.  She  observed  to  her, 
how  much  such  frippery  took  from  dignity,  obscured 
real  beauty,  betrayed  a  vulgar  taste,  and  was  wholly 
incompatible  with  a  character  of  importance,  or  even 


4a  VARIETIES  ON  ART.  - 

of  chastity.  But  all  this  was  said  in  vain:  Miss  was 
enamoured  of  a  rainbow,  and  nothing  seemed  likely 
to  cure  her  of  her  fancy.  Her  sage  adviser  had  only 
the  consolation  of  remarking,  that  she  always  kept 
herself  extremely  clean,  and  that  she  had  so  judicious- 
ly assorted  those  glowing  hues,  that  they  wonderfully 
set  off  each  other.  But  the  most  odd  part  was,  that 
she  would  not  give  up  the  pleasure  of  showing  off  in 
those  bright  tints,  how  much  soever  the  circumstances 
of  her  situation  seemed  to  demand  it;  and  often  went 
in  her  favourite  gaudy  dress  to  accompany  the  mourn- 
ers at  a  funeral,  where,  if  she  wept,  she  still  looked 

She  was  now  become  a  buxom,  langhnig  joknig 
girl;  romped  with  the  men,  and  so  much  enjoyed 
herself,  that  she  ate  and  drank  in  such  sort  as  to  grow 
enormously  lusty,  and  soon  became  nearly  as  broad 
as  she  was  high.  The  beauties  and  graces  of  the 
Grecian  contour  were  now  no  longer  to  be  discerned  : 
the  whole  form  was  lost  in  the  quantity  of  flesh,  which 
engrossed  her  once  delicate  and  graceful  limbs,  and 
her  brawny  shoulders,  fat  elbows,  and  cherry  cheeks, 
appeared  as  red  as  a  brickbat. 

In  derision,  her  companions  gave  her  the  nick-name 
of  t\ie  flesh  shambles. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

How  the  beautiful  Wanderer  became  so  well  pleased 
with  Travelling,  that  she  would  go  on  with  it ;  also 
of  the  pithy  Mvice  that  was  given  her  by  her  old 
JJuenna,  who  would  uoigo  on  with  her. 

Our  Beauty  became  so  gay,  and  so  well  pleased 
with  these  first  essays  of  her  travels,  that  nothing 
would  satisfy  her  humour,  but  she  would  proceed  in 
quest  of  new  adventures :  and,  at  first,  she  concluded 
(hat  her  pious  companion  would  still  have  attended 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  4,3 

her;  but,  on  the  question  being  put,  the  answer  was 
an  absolute  refusal,  accompanied  with  a  thousand 
entreaties  that  she  would  not  thus  court  disaster, 
penury,  and  contempt,  nor  obtrude  herself  an  unwel- 
come visitor  in  strange  countries.  But,  buoyed  up  by 
success  and  flattery,  and  still  impelled  by  curiosity, 
she  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  every  argument  m  hich  could 
be  ojffered  against  her  darling  wish;  for  she  was  filled 
"with  the  notion  of  her  own  consequence,  and  suffi- 
ciently convinced  in  her  mind  that  she  should  meet 
with  a  joyful  reception  in  whatever  place  she  deigned 
to  bless  with  her  presence ;  and,  in  spite  of  all  dan- 
gers, she  resolved  to  go  on,  although  alone,  (her 
religious  retinue  having  now  left  her,)  unfriended, 
and  without  a  guide :  like  another  Minerva,  slie  was 
above  those  weaknesses  so  common  to  tiie  female  sexi 
and  she  became  very  impatient  till  the  hour  was  fixed, 
at  which  she  was  to  pursue  her  wandering  project. 
When,  at  last,  the  time  of  her  departure  was  arrived, 
the  final  leave  which  took  place  between  her  and  her 
sacred  friend,  hitherto  her  protectress,  was  very  af- 
fecting, and  many  tears  were  siied  on  each  part. 
Nothing  could  prevail  on  the  devotee  to  accompany 
her  ward  one  step  further;  but  she  wept  and  em- 
braced, and  embraced  and  wept  again :  she  implored 
Heaven  that  every  blessing  might  attend  on  all  her 
beloved  wanderer's  ways; — '•  But  many,''  said  she, 
^^  are  the  sad  forebodings  of  my  mind,  that  all  your 
days  of  good  are  past,  never  more  to  return.  When 
both  religion  and  the  church  have  forsaken  you,  1 
much  fear  a  curse  will  light  upon  your  head. — Poor 
unfortunate  child!  will  you  urge  your  fate?  Will  you 
seek  the  land  where  you  will  cry  in  vain  for  succour? 
Thy  soft  voice  cannot,  will  not,  be  heard  in  the 
world's  tumult;  nor  can  the  intrinsic  benefits  of  thy 
great  faculties,  when  dimly  seen  (most  assuredly) 
under  the  cloud  of  adversity,  appear  to  be  sufficiently 
important  to  claim  the  notice  of  a  state. 

"  My  darling  child,"  contiimed  she,  ^'  pray  you, 
take  care !  Do  not  descend  to  mean  and  servile  tricks ; 


<J4  VARIETIES  ON  ART, 

rather  embrace  poverty,  even  to  death,  than  submit  to 
such  resources.  Remember  the  dignity  of  your  ex- 
traction, the  purity  of  your  education,  and  the  high 
importance  of  your  first  employments.  Regard  ever 
with  reverential  awe  those  powers  which  Heaven  liag 
intrusted  to  your  guidance,  and  use  tliem  only  for  the 
best  and  purest  services  of  mankind,  as  you  were 
wont  to  do  heretofore. 

*'  I  have  reason  to  think  your  prudence  already 
lessened,  but  much  I  fear  that  in  other  countries  it 
will  be  wholly  lost.  I  but  too  plainly  foresee  that 
you  will  be  reduced  to  the  extreme  verge  of  want, 
and  therefore  will  abandon  yourself  to  all  the  imperi- 
ous caprices  of  the  ignorant  or  the  rich.  How  dif- 
ferent was  once  your  state,  under  the  protection,  the 
splendid  influence  of  a  beneficient,  an  indulgent  father ! 
one  of  such  acknowledged  judgment  and  taste,  who 
loved  to  see  you  in  the  full  exertion  of  your  talents, 
displaying  them  with  that  dignity  which  ever  must 
accompany  their  services  in  the  cause  of  devotion  and 
of  heroic  virtue  !  No  longer  is  thy  elevated  mind  to  be 
employed  in  awful  contemplation  on  the  divine  mis- 
sions of  prophets  and  apostles,  no  more  to  be  enwrapt 
in  heavenly  glories  of  descending  angels  o'er  the 
Saviour  of  the  world,  nor  evermore  to  be  called  in 
aid  to  represent  the  sacred  extasies  of  expiring  saints 
and  holy  martyrs ! — Go,  go,  presumptuous,  friendless, 
orphan! — (0  cutting,  mortifying,  reflection!) — Go, 
and  meet  thy  future  doom,  to  aid  the  vulgar  mirth  of 
boors  in  their  hovels,  and  join  their  dance  to  ill-played 
tunes  on  fiddles  and  on  bagpipes;  to  repeat  their 
childish  humours,  and  be  thy  very  self  no  more!  Go, 
keep  a  small  ware  shop,  be  the  retailer  of  ribbands  and 
of  frippery;  turn  milliner,  and  watch  the  passing 
moment  of  the  mode,  lest  it  perish  ere  you  catch  it! 
Thus  become  the  historian  of  the  idle;  and  remember 
that,  like  a  stage- dancer,  you  keep  a  fixed  eternal 
smirk  upon  your  face,  lest  you  should  be  thought  too 
grave,  and  tliereby  disgust  your  customers. — Prepare 
thyself  for  all  this,  for  this,  I  predict;  will  be  thy  fate. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  45 

"  Little  do  you  know  or  reflect  on  the  value  of  your 
protectress,  whom  you  now  quit  and  lose  for  ever,  and 
with  her  all  your  earthly  importance;  for  with  myself 
I  shall  withdraw  that  sacred  veil  in  which  you  seemed 
to  be  enshrined ;  you  will  become  now  no  better  than 
a  forlorn,  abandoned  wanderer,  a  vagabond,  an  out- 
cast! You  will  find,  my  child,  by  sad  experience, 
that  you  have  lost  your  terrestrial  paradise :  it  is  a 
rude  world  that  lies  before  you,  in  which  to  seek 
yoUr  dwelling-place,  and  folly  for  your  guide. — 
Farewell,  my  daughter!  farewell  for  ever!"  Her 
voice  was  choaked,  and  she  turned  away,  bathed  in  a 
flood  of  useless  tears. 

Thus  finished  the  remonstrance  of  the  enthusiastic 
devotee.  Our  young  heroine  also  shed  tears  ;  but 
these,  like  the  showers  of  spring,  were  soon  dried  up, 
and  their  cause  as  soon  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Hoiv  the  Beauty  continued  her  Travels,  and  how  the 
Author  cannot  tell  whither,  but  supposes  it  was  to 
England;  and  of  the  strange  Adventures  she  met 
with  there. 

At  this  period  of  our  Beauty^s  history,  a  doubt 
occurs,  which  it  will  puzzle  future  connoisseurs  and 
antiquaries  to  clear  up;  and  in  distant  ages,  when 
this  renowned  and  ever-to-be-remembered  history 
becomes  the  subject  of  the  remarks,  annotations,  and 
animadversions  of  future  critics,  whose  grandfathers 
are  yet  unborn,  it  will  then,  1  say,  be  found,  that  the 
author  did  not  know  whether  the  fair  wanderer's  first 
visit,  after  she  quitted  Flanders,  was  to  France  or 
England;  and,  for  any  help  that  I  can  give  them,  it 
must  remain  in  eternal  obscurity,  as  siie  herself  never 
informed  me,  and  I,  from  my  profound  respect  to  her, 
never  presumed  to  trouble  her  with  any  inquiries, 

o   D 


46  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

ftMiiug  I  might  give  offence.  I  received  whatever  she 
chose  to  relate  to  me,  and  only  added  to  it  from  my 
own  certain  knowledge  of  her  adventures.  Thus, 
then,  it  stands;  for  1  would  not,  in  this  my  unbiassed, 
unadulterated,  unsophisticated,  and  true  history,  given 
to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  relate  a  single  incident, 
when  I  was  not  fully  convinced  of  its  authenticity. 

It  is  a  certain  fact,  however,  that  both  these  king- 
doms of  England  and  France  obtained  the  honour  of 
her  presence,  as  1  sliall  hereafter  shew.  And  I  must 
also  observe,  that  to  whichever  it  was  she  paid  the 
lirst  visit,  it  makes  no  material  difference  in  regard  to 
the  great  and  important  purpose  for  which  I  became 
the  humble  historian  of  her  chequered  life.  There- 
fore, to  proceed  without  further  interruption,  I  shall 
conclude  that  her  next  visit  was  paid  to  England, 
which  country,  for  certain,  she  had  long  desired  to 
see ;  and  it  is  equally  certain,  that,  at  her  arrival,  she 
was  received  with  the  kindest  welcome,  and,  at  first, 
every  appearance  seemed  to  be  in  her  favour;  for  it  is 
with  pleasure  I  am  able  to  say,  that,  during  lier  abode 
in  our  country,  she  was  flattered  by  the  addresses  of 
no  less  than  two  admirers,  (at  different  periods,)  both 
of  the  highest  rank  in  the  kingdom.  The  first  of  thes6 
received  and  clierished  her,  when  but  a  stranger  in 
the  land,  with  tokens  of  the  highest  regard;  though, 
in  the  end,  he  became  her  real  enemy,  and  gave  a 
fatal  blow  to  her  interest  in  this  country ;  for  he  was 
in  his  nature  a  fickle  tyrant,  and  bad  treated  his 
wives  no  better;  for  out  of  six,  which  he  had  married, 
he  cruelly  murdered  two,  yet  persisted  in  saying  they 
died  a  proper  de^th,  and  so  got  rid  of  the  vile  busi- 
ness. 

Her  next  admirer  was  a  man  of  t)ie  most  accom- 
plished manners,  of  high  taste,  refined  mind,  and 
possessed  of  a  thousand  virtues.  She  loved  him 
sincerely,  but  lost  him  by  an  untimely  death,  so  un- 
deserved, that  the  awful  recollection  is  terrible.  An 
enthusiastic  crew  assassinated  him,  and  tlien  seized 
on  all  his  property,  and  possessed  themselves  of  all 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  47 

his  power.   This  event  threw  her  into  such  a  deplora- 
ble state  of  melancholy  and  despondence,  that  it  had 
very  nearly  cost  her  her  life.    She  mourned  his  loss 
not  only  as  her  lover,  but  also  as  her  protector,  friend, 
and  patron ;  for,  had  he  lived  longer,  he  would  liave 
aggrandized  her  to  the  utmost  of  her  wislies.    But 
there  had  been  no  opportunity,  during  the  short  period 
of  their  acquaintance,  for  him  to  give  her  that  high 
importance  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed  in  her 
early  days;  and,  at  last,  his  own  affairs  became  so 
embarrassed,  that  it  was  no  longer  in  his  power.    But 
he  loved  and  encouraged  her  endeavours,  and  afforded 
her  a  thousand  opportunities  of  displaying  her  ex- 
quisite taste,  judgment,  and  fine  genius;  and   happy 
were  all  her  days  until  his  fatal  death  ! — What  also 
at  the  time  increased  her  calamity,  (already  too  great,) 
was,  that  those  who  laid  claim  to  his  effects,  as  his 
successors,  immediately  set  about  to  wreak  their  ut- 
most vengeance  on  all  his  late  favourites,  and  on  her- 
self amongst  the  rest.    Indeed,  she  was  the  particular 
object  of  their  abomination ;  first,  for  her  own  sake, 
for  they  could  discern  no  virtues  which  she  possessed  ; 
next,  because  she  had  been  the  favourite  of  their  pre- 
decessor; and  lastly,  on  account  of  her  father,  to  theni 
most  detestable,  whom  they  called  by  the  formidable 
appellation  of  the  Scarlet  Whore  of  Babylon.    In 
short,  they  conceived  such  an  inveterate  hatred  against 
her,  that  they  lost  no  time  in  satisfying  their  fury,  but 
posted  suddenly  away  to  her  place  of  residence,  and 
broke  into  the  house  with  an  intent,  if  possible,  to 
have  annihilated  her  at  once :  but  by  good  luck  she 
escaped  out  of  their  hands  alive,  though   not  tilt  iier 
clothes  were  almost  torn  oft*  her  body.    After  having 
thus  frightened   her  into  flight,  they   directed   their 
vengeance  against  all  Jhat  appertained   to  her,  and 
instantly  made  seizure  of  every  particle  of  her  proper- 
ty, which  at  the  time  was  very  considerable;  and  this 
was  done,  not  with  the  intention  to  make  any  use  of 
it  for  their  own  good,  but  merely  by  way  of  express- 
ing their  inveterate  spite  and  detestation  of  her  power, 


48  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

Leing  tastelessly  insensible  to  her  merits.  They,  with 
violent  and  rude  hands,  tore  down  all  the  beautiful 
ornaments  and  hangings  of  the  rooms,  which  they 
burnt  or  broke  to  pieces,  and  wished  to  have  done  it 
before  her  face :  they  also  demolished  every  bit  of 
painted  glass  in  all  the  windows,  only  because  it  had 
been  placed  there  by  her  desire.  Then,  filled  with 
all  that  confidence  of  superiority  and  pride,  which 
conceit  andjgnorance  only  can  bestow,  they  paused; 
and,  blessing  themselves  while  they  surveyed  the 
precious  ruin,  turning  up  the  whites  of  tlieir  puritani- 
cal eyes  in  pious  ecstacy  of  zeal,  cried,  "  Now  be- 
hold the  downfall  of  this  vile  harlot's  witchery  and 
popish  charms!  No  more  shall  such  vicious  trumpery 
disgrace  our  venerable  walls;  let  them  in  future  be  all 
pure,  and  plain  white-wash;  or,  if  they  ever  are  to  be, 
discoloured,  let  it  be  by  natural  damps,  black  smoke, 
or  green  mildew ;  for  true  devotion  can  defy  all  filth ! 
No  popish  stuflfnor  show  for  us !  And  we  also  prophe- 
cy, that  our  pure  example  shall  be  observed,  and 
imitated  (in  this  our  country  at  least)  till  time  shall 
be  no  more !" 

It  might  have  been  expected,  that  after  all  this  was 
done,  their  rage  would  iiave  been  satiated:  but  no; 
they  were  not  content  with  destroying  her  substance, 
and  driving  her  from  her  habitation,  but  they  also 
vowed  their  utmost  vengeance  against  all  those  who 
should  dare  even  to  give  her  harbour,  and  aimed  at 
starving  her  to  death,  or  at  least  driving  iier  out  of 
the  country;  and  they  still  heightened  the  bitterness 
of  her  calamity  by  the  addition  of  most  virulent  abuse, 
inventing  a  thousand  falsehoods  to  her  prejudice,  and 
setting  all  the  neighbourhood  against  her;  accusing 
her  of  profligacy,  saying  they  were  well  assured  of 
Iier  w  icked  life  and  conversation ;  that  she  had  con- 
nived with,  and  assisted,  a  diabolical  old  wizard — a 
father,  as  she  called  him,  and  had  been  his  chief 
instrument  to  inoculate  the  world  with  sin,  by  pro- 
moting and  assisting  all  his  vile  juggling  tricks,  and 
had  given  a  helping  hand  to  all  his  impostures;  that 


THE'  SLIGHTED  BEAtTY  ^ 

she  was  no  better  than  a  sorceress,  ami  that  none  of  her 
wicked  arts  should  ever  in  future  be  played  on  their 
premises;  that  she  was  a  vile  limb  of  the  devil,  and 
trained  to  serve  his  evil  purposes ;  that  she  deserved 
no  less  punishment  than  excommunication,  and  there- 
fore was,  by  their  supreme  order  and  decree,  from 
that  moment  excommunicated  and  curst  out  of  church, 
and  solemnly  forbid  ever  again  to  enter  its  gates. 

These  pious  tyrants  next  levelled  their  vengeance 
at  a  person  who  was  only  her  cousin- germau.  He 
was  one  who  possessed  great  talents,  had  been  for 
some  time  settled  in  the  kingdom,  and  was  become  a 
man  of  considerable  consequence,  having  acquired 
the  dignity  of  a  doctor  in  the  universities.  This 
victim  they  now  doomed  to  share  nearly  the  same  fate 
with  our  Beauty.  He  was  accordingly  most  rudely 
turned  out  of  the  church,  on  the  charge  of  having 
practised  a  vile  habit  of  whistling  jigs  there  in  ser- 
vice-time; besides  which,  they  had  much  other  matter 
to  urge  against  his  conduct,  such  as  that  he  was  a 
noisy,  inflated,  roaring,  empty  fellow,  with  a  voice 
like  a  trumpet,  insomuch  that,  wherever  he  was 
present,  nothing  could  be  heard  but  himself.  Thus, 
by  the  loudness  of  his  voice  alone,  he  could  force  into 
silence  the  gravest  preacher  or  the  gayest  wit;  that 
he  was  a  great  encourager  of  hops  and  dancing  meet- 
ings, in  which  he  was  sure  always  to  be  one  amongst 
the  thickest  of  them ;  that  he  was  fond  of  singing  what 
is  called  a  good  song  in  company,  to  the  great  delight 
of  sinners,  and  the  great  annoyance  of  the  trembling 
saints. 

All  this,  antl  more,  was  uttered  by  the  pious,  in 
their  wrath  against  Iiim,  on  his  being  cast  out  from 
amongst  them,  as  an  abomination  to  their  tabernacle. 

He  cared,  however,  very  little  for  this  spiteful  crew 
of  enemies,  as  he  was  a  light-hearted,  well-meaning, 
pleasant  fellow,  and  was  always  sure  of  a  welcome 
wherever  he  came  ;  for  he  had  such  a  fascinating  pow^ 
er,  that  the  men  followed  him  with  delight,  and  as  to 
ladies,  they  were  all  in  love  with  him  to  distraction  ; 


90  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

insomuch  iliat,  in  a  very  few  years  after  this,  he  got 
again  into  favour,  and  was  caressed  and  cherished 
even  in  the  heart  of  the  church,  and,  although  he  was 
of  a  gay  and  expensive  turn,  yet  he  was  never  left  in 
want  of  either  meal  or  money. 

But  it  was  far  otlierwise  in  the  case  of  our  unfortu- 
nate Beauty ;  the  antipathy  to  her  was  inveterate  and 
lasting :  when  she  was  dismissed  by  the  church,  it  was 
to  return  no  more ; — She  was,  indeed,  the  veriest 
sport  of  Fortune. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

How  the  Beauty  makes  a  sudden  retreat  into  Holland, 
and  of  the  strangeness  of  her  whims  in  that  coun- 
try. 

Our  fair  heroine,  being  reduced  to  the  miserable 
plight  in  which  we  left  her,  was  obliged  to  quit 
England  as  soon  as  possible,  or  it  would  have  been 
worse  for  her.  "  The  rich,"  says  a  certain  author, 
"  may  revenge  themselves  with  arms ;  the  poor  have 
only  tears." 

She  skulked  about  for  a  short  time  in  a  starving 
state,  and  then  fled  into  Holland,  where,  being  by  this 
time  pretty  much  humbled  through  her  late  afflictions, 
she  was,  from  stern  necessity,  determined  for  the 
present  to  conform  her  manners  entirely  to  the  humours 
of  the  people,  who  were  so  much  her  friends  as  to  re- 
ceive her  and  give  her  harbour. — Now,  as  a  fallen 
angel,  shorn  of  her  rays,  she  no  longer  beamed  with 
holy  splendour.  Her  original  dignity,  though  it  never 
forsook  her,  was  for  a  time  totally  forgotten.  Like 
the  cameleon,  she  seemed  only  to  crawl  upon  the 
earth,  reflecting  the  image  of  whatever  was  nearest  to 
her.  She  sung  and  she  danced,  she  played  childish 
the  fooleries  with  the  boors,  and  many  tricks  she  prac- 
tised, all  in  a  most  enchanting  manner.   Among  these, 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  51 

were  her  surprizing  feats  by  candle-light,  wliich  she 
performed  often  to  the  infinite  pleasure  of  all  the  spec- 
tators. She  also  practised  in  artificial  flower-making 
with  surprizing  success :  indeed  her  fruit  and  flowers 
would  equally  deceive  and  delight  the  dilettante,  or 
still  greater  connoisseur,  the  insect.  She  gamed, 
smoaked,  and  sometimes  even  fought  with  the  most 
vulgar  in  their  carousing  booths,  and  imitated  all  their 
manners  to  the  life :  she  no  longer  prided  herself  on 
grace,  beauty,  or  even  on  being  a  human  figure;  in 
truth,  you  would  scarcely  have  recognized  her  origin- 
al person :  she  now  seemed  without  form,  from  the 
quantity  of  her  petticoats — absolutely  a  shapeless  wal- 
let with  feet,  hands,  and  a  face — but  she  captivated 
the  crowd,  and  they  rewarded  her  in  return,  not  in- 
deed with  splendour,  but  with  plenty. 

It  was  about  this  time  (I  think)  that  she  received  a 
most  pressing  invitation  to  pay  a  visit  to  France,  where 
every  indulgence  was  promised  her,  and  where  she 
was  assured  that  every  caprice  of  her  humour  would 
be  regarded  with  delight  and  applause.  Such  fair 
offers  from  that  gay  country  soon  prevailed,  and  she 
accordingly  made  preparations  for  a  speedy  departure. 


CHAPTER  Vll. 

What  a  Fool  the  Beauty  was  in  France  ;  and  what  a 
Fool  she  was  to  leave  France. 

We  have  already  seen  the  great  change  in  our 
Beauty's  conduct,  as  compared  with  her  former  char- 
acter; her  example  proved  most  conspicuously  the  old 
proverb,  that  "  evil  communications  corrupt  good  man- 
ners;" and  it  will  be  found  that  in  France  she  still 
upheld  its  truth,  having  in  her  disposition  from  nature, 
a  strong  desire  to  indulge  all  those  who  paid  court  to 
her.  The  sagacious  reader  must  have  already  made 
the  remark,  that,  in  every  country  in  which  she  re- 


5S  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

sided,  she  always  subdued  her  own  better  knowledge, 
judgment,  manners,  or  even  virtues,  in  order  to  please, 
and  was  hunildy  content  to  become  tlie  mere  echo,  as 
1  may  term  it,  of  the  nation  with  wliom  she  was  to 
live,  and  by  whom  she  was  to  be  supported.  She 
could  not  bear  to  be  neglected,  neither  could  she  exist 
without  pecuniary  aid,  and  for  those  weighty  reasons 
alone,  was  always  forced  to  be  the  true  mirror  of  tlie 
people,  and  reflect  back  to  them  (heir  own  image.  It 
was  as  necessary  to  do  this,  as  to  speak  tlieir  language, 
especially  when  she  was  amongst  those  whom  the 
inherent  dignity  of  her  own  nature  had  no  powers  to 
charm. 

But  to  proceed  in  our  history.  AVe  now  find  the 
fair  heroine  safely  arrived  in  France,  where  she  was 
but  too  soon  obliged  to  adopt  all  the  modes  and  frivol- 
ous airs  of  that  volatile  nation.  None  of  her  changes 
were  more  surprizing  or  more  quickly  executed;  she 
seemed  presently  to  be  one  of  their  own  creation. 
She  dressed  and  simpered  with  the  gayest,  and  when 
she  chose  to  appear  grave,  would  quickly  assume  an 
elegant  desponding  air,  would  lay  herself  down  in  an 
attitude  of  the  most  studied  grace,  on  a  gilded  sopha, 
canopied  with  festoons  of  jessamine  and  roses; — she 
painted  her  cheeks,  and  bit  her  lips  to  make  them  red, 
and,  prettily  lisping,  talked  as  if  she  was  a  forsaken, 
half  naked,  Arcadian  shepherdess. — Sometimes,  she 
fancied  herself  Yenus  attended  by  the  Graces,  with  a 
flight  of  little  playful  Cupids  floating  round  her ;  at 
other  times  she  would  deck  herself  out  in  a  helmet 
and  armour  made  of  foil  and  gilt  leather,  with  a 
truncheon  in  one  hand  and  paper  thunder-bolts  in  the 
other,  strut  about  her  apartments,  and  call  herself 
Minerva  or  .luno,  talk  of  Homer,  and  give  herself 
such  airs,  tiiat  you  would  have  taken  her  for  one 
crazed  in  her  wits.  Tlien  again  she  affectedly  as- 
sumed all  the  solemn  gravity  of  religion:  then  quickly 
dressed  herself  like  Harlequin  or  Columbine,  and 
looked  just  as  if  she  was  about  to  dance  a  jig  in  a 
booth  before  a  puppet-show.   In  short,  I  cannot  but 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  03 

own,  that,  during  her  abode  in  France,  she  at  times 
made  herself  more  justly  a  subject  of  ridicule  and 
contempt,  than  in  any  other  country  she  had  visited 
— her  conceit  and  affectation  were  so  great.  Never- 
theless she  was  well  received  throughout  the  whole 
kingdom,  and  was  courted,  caressed,  and  handsomely 
rewarded,  so  as  to  pass  her  days  in  affluence  and 
pleasure. 

Yet,  to  do  her  character  all  justice,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, that  during  the  part  of  her  time  in  France,  in 
which  she  associated  with  such  persons  as  were  of 
learning  and  science,  she  conducted  herself  with  that 
degree  of  propriety  and  judgment,  that  she  justly 
deserved  the  applause  she  gained  by  it;  thus  affording 
another  proof  of  her  powers  and  versatility,  by  shew- 
ing that  she  could  be  great  when  with  the  great,  and 
little  when  with  the  little. 


3  £ 


BOOK  11. 


CHAPTER  I. 

%1  wonderful  Discovery,  tchich  dues  not  much  forward 
the  Progress  of  the  Story. 

The  courteous  reader  may  easily  conceive  the 
painful  state  of  my  mind,  when  I  inform  him  that  I 
have  heard  various  mortifying  opinions  given  upon 
the  former  part  of  this  simple  narrative,  by  different 
individuals  who  have  perused  it.*  Some  have  called 
it  a  romantic  fable,  declared  it  was  impossible  to  be  a 
truth,  or  even  on  truth  :  and  of  so  wild  and  incoherent 
a  kind,  that  they  could  not  conceive  what  it  was  about ; 
and  have  finished  by  determining,  that  it  was  not  a 
real  and  pure  statement  of  any  case  whatever.  Thus 
it  appears  that  I  have  lost  my  labour  with  those  read- 
»;r9,  having  done  no  good  or  service  to  my  forlorn  friend. 

On  the  other  hand,  those  of  a  higher  degree  of 
sagacity,  who  conceive  they  can  see  deeper  into  a 
millstone  than  their  neighbours,  affect  to  discover  a 
subtle  meaning  in  this  my  pitiable  relation ;  they  grant 
it  is  a  fable,  but  make  out  lie  full  interpretation  of  it 
in  their  own  minds,  as  clear  as  the  sun  at  noon-day 
is  to  their  siglit.  ^'  It  alludes,"  say  they,  "  to  things 
real,  though  mixed  with  things  imaginary :  and  this 
mode  has  been  adopted  by  the  w  liter,  in  order  to  give 
a  more  distinct  idea  of  the  subject  in  hand,  as  viewed 
from  a  -iertaiu  point."  The  Slighted  Beauty,  accord- 
ins;  to  them,  (for  I  am  well  aware  of  what  they  have 
said,)  is  no  more  than  a  personification  of  the  Art  of 

*  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  tlie  first  part  of  this  history  was 
published  many  months  before  the  remainder,  in  the  papere 
called  the  Artist. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  55 

Painting.  Tiie  father  who  adopted  lier,  uiust  mean 
the  Popes  or  Bishops  of  Rome;  by  her  old  duenna^ 
is  signified  the  Romish  religion;  her  conduct  in  Flan- 
ders is  supposed  to  be  the  type  or  emblem  of  the 
prevalent  characteristics  of  the  Flemish  schools  of  art : 
and  the  same  of  Holland,  France,  Spain,  England, 
&c.  &c. — Her  two  lovers  mean  Henry  the  Eighth  and 
Charles  the  First:  and  the  banishment  of  herself  and 
her  cousin -ger man  alludes  to  the  conduct  of  the  Puri- 
tans, when  they  discharged  painting  and  music  from 
the  service  of  the  church :"  and  thus  they  go  on,  as  if 
they  had  it  all  their  own  way,  without  ever  consultin:^ 
the  poor  author,  or  thinking  it  in  the  least  degree 
necessary  to  have  his  consent;  they  have  thus  deter- 
mined, and,  as  that  excellent  and  sage  proverb  has  it, 
"Just  as  the  fool  thinketh,  so  the  bell  clinketh."  But 
to  do  them  full  justice,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  they 
are  willing  to  do  the  author  the  same,  and  thus  they 
go  about  it: 

"  It  is  not  intended,"  say  they,  "  in  this  hasly 
sketch,  to  throw  any  slight  upon  the  multifarious  prac- 
tice of  the  graphic  art  in  this  country,  but  merely 
some  opinions  are  given,  to  serve  as  a  vindication  of 
British  talents  against  those  foreigners  and  others, 
who  have  endeavoured  to  prove  that  Englishmen  do 
not  possess,  equally  with  other  nations,  that  native 
genius  requisite  to  qualify  them  for  becoming  illustri- 
ous, in  what,  by  the  ladies  and  their  maids,  is  termed 
the  polite  arts;  and  that  the  author  has,  in  his  sim- 
plicity, attempted  to  give,  in  this  tale,  his  own  notions 
why  the  sublime  in  art  does  not  thrive  in  the  bosom 
of  this  his  own  dear  country  :"  and  they  very  candidly 
allow,  that,  if  what  the  author  has  asserted  cannot  be 
denied  to  be  a  true  statement,  (and  which  they  very 
kindly  say  it  cannot,)  why,  then  it  proves,  that  the 
cause  is  not  the  want  of  intellectual  powers  in  our 
countrymen,  but  the  want  of  opportunity  only  to 
display  them/' 

They  still  proceed — "  Neither  is  it  (say  they)  in- 
tended in  this  little  work,  to  deny  that  a  most  ample 


56  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

share  of  fame,  patronage,  and  profit,  (at  least  equal  to 
the  just  claims,)  is  bestowed  on  those  departments  of 
art,  whicli,  in  conformity  to  the  disposition  of  the 
natives,  occupy  its  protessors  in  this  country.    But," 
they  say,  ''  there  is  another  distinct  province  of  art, 
M-hich  is  totally  unknown  in  this  country,  and,  there 
is  also  great  reason  to  fear,  will  ever  so  remain.    It  is 
that,  in  which  were  produced  tlie  Cartoons  of  Raphael, 
and  the  Capella  Sistina  of  Michael  Angelo ;  that,  in 
which  Painting  makes  its  claim  to  such  high  intellec- 
tual pre-eminence,"  and  they  declare  it  to  be  that 
description  of  art  a/o)?e,  which  is  here  alluded  to.    As 
the  author,  I  cannot  but  in  justice  acknowledge,  that 
I  have  very  great  obligations  to  those  good  commen- 
tators for  so  kindly  informing  me  of  what  it  was  that  I 
was  about,  or  meant  to  do  in  this  my  work.   But  I 
beg  permission  to  offer  a  few  words  in  my  own  vindi- 
cation ;  I  wish  I  had  been  capable  of  the  fancy  or 
imagination  which  those  critics  insinuate ;  then  indeed 
I  might  have  embellished  my  little  history  with  alle- 
gory, and  beguiled  some  idle  readers,  who,  while 
they  sought  after  amusement  only,  might  have  been 
cheated  into  knowledge,  and  so  have  made  a  moral 
use  of  my  tale ;  for  well  I  know,  that  to  do  good  by 
stealth  has  been  the  approved  practice  of  all  degrees 
of  philosophers,  from  those  who  conveyed  it  in  a 
parable,  even  to  those  who  administer  it  in  a  gilded 
pill.  There  is  a  strange  perverseness  in  human  nature, 
an  unaccountable  unwillingness  to  receive  good  for 
its  own  sake  alone;  it  must  be  sweetened  and  adapted 
to  the  palate  by  a  flavour  or  dash  of  pleasure,   and 
thus,  while  the  appetites  are  deluded   and  off  their 
guard,  the  benefit  is  done  against  the  will ;  and  the 
greater  or  less  quantity  of  wholesome  medicine  which 
is  conveyed  to  the  patient's  relief,  must  wholly  depend 
on  the  address  with  which  it  is  administered.   The 
power  which  is  thus  disguised,  to  insinuate  itself  with 
full  effect,  may,   (though  in  this  respect  only,)   be 
compared  to  tiie   Trojan  Horse;  that  whicli  is  con- 


*      THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  gy 

tained  must  be  unknown  to  those  who  receive  it,  and 
please  in  the  means  to  become  powerful  in  the  end. 

I  shall  say  nothing  more  in  my  defence,  only  beg 
leave  to  give  a  hint  to  those  who  raise  such  fabrics  in 
their  imaginations ;  to  wit,  that  they  may  sometimes 
perchance  be  mistaken ;  and  that  fancy  and  facts  do 
not  always  coincide.  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  pro- 
duce one  instance  (as  it  is  a  known  truth)  in  order  to 
prove  and  explain  what  I  now  advance,  and  then 
proceed  to  relate  the  remainder  of  my  dry  but  faithful 
story,  whether  it  be  received  as  truth  or  not. 

Not  long  since,  in  a  populous  street  of  a  populous 
city,  the  passengers,  as  well  as  the  neighbours,  were 
awfully  alarmed  by  horrid  shrieks  of  murder  in  one  of 
the  houses.  This  soon  collected  a  vast  mob  of  all 
sorts,  who  as  soon  became  tumultuous;  and,  as  they 
could  obtain  no  sort  of  information  by  repeated  knock- 
ing at  the  door,  it  was  determined  to  break  it  open  by 
force,  and  enter  the  house  to  relieve  this  screaming 
victim  from  the  jaws  of  death.  But  some  amongst  the 
crowd  wished  to  oppose  those  violent  measures,  there- 
fore a  party  of  the  guards  was  called  in,  to  keep  the 
multitude  at  bay ;  the  peace-officers  likewise  were 
sent  for,  with  the  justice  at  their  head,  who  was 
obliged  to  read  the  riot  act,  to  keep  order ;  but  as  the 
cries  of  distress  still  continued,  it  was  determined  at 
last  to  force  the  door  open,  in  a  legal  way. — In  the 
midst  of  this  tumultuous  clamour,  the  innocent  family 
returned  to  their  besieged  house,  having  been  abroad 
to  spend  a  holy-day  (it  being  Sunday.)  When,  after 
great  difficulty,  and  as  great  insults  from  the  mob, 
they  obtained  a  hearing  from  the  enraged  populace, 
they  declared  there  could  be  no  sufferer  in  the  house, 
as  no  one  had  been  left  in  it;  and  that  this  cruel  mur- 
der, which  had  filled  every  head  and  heart  with  hor- 
ror, was  nothing  more  than  the  suggestion  of  the 
imagination  set  at  work  by  the  simple  screaming  of 
their  parrot. 


58  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 


CHAPTER  11. 

ffow  the  Beauty  re  embarked  for  England,  and  how 
she  was  used  by  the  Custom-house  Officers  on  her 
landing:  what  they  took  her  to  be,  and  the  embar- 
rassment it  occasioned  her.  How  she  was  mistaken 
for  a  Spy,  and  also  for  a  Cook. 

Our  beautiful  Inconstant,  still  panting  after  variety, 
suddenly  came  to  a  resolution  to  try  her  fortune  once 
more  in  fair  England,  where  she  had  long  conceived 
an  ardent  desire  to  pay  a  second  visit,  having  of  late 
learned  that  the  former  faction  of  her  enemies  was 
either  destroyed,  or,  at  least,  pretty  well  kept  under, 
and  sufficiently  humbled,  so  that  she  might  very  safely 
shew  her  face  again  in  that  kingdom.  She  according- 
ly, procuring  a  passage,  took  a  French  leave,  and 
soon  after  safely  arrived  on  the  desired  shore.  Im- 
mediately on  her  landing,  she  was  surrounded  by  the 
petty  officers  of  the  customs,  who,  not  well  knowing 
what  to  make  of  her,  concluded  she  must  be  a  spy, 
and  therefore  made  seizure  of  all  her  baggage;  but 
fortunately  for  her,  they  overlooked  a  small  chest 
containing  various  articles  of  foreign  taste,  which  she 
had  picked  up  in  the  different  countries  in  which  she 
had  resided.  To  this  she  immediately  had  recourse, 
and  began  to  rig  herself  out  in  all  the  little  remains 
of  her  property;  and  thus  equipped,  she  made  the 
strangest  figure  the  world  ever  beheld,  being  obliged 
to  wear  the  rags  of  every  country  in  Europe.  Thus, 
she  had  a  scarlet  Ferraiuolo  from  Rome,  a  ruff  and 
scarf  from  Spain,  a  black  silk  skirt  from  Venice,  a 
thick  woollen  petticoat  and  a  pair  of  skaiting  shoes  or 
boots  from  Holland,  and  a  spangled  robe  of  gauze 
from  France,  trimmed  with  a  full  sufficient  quantity 
of  Flanders  lace;  and  in  consequence,  she  seemed,  on 
her  first  appearance,  to  be  so  strongly  attached  to  the 
various  peculiarities  and  fashions  of  each  country  she 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  59 

had  visited,  that  it  was  impossible  to  determine  from 
which  she  came  last;  nor  would  any  one  of  those 
countries  have  been  able  honestly  to  claim  her  as  their 
own.  Yet,  to  do  her  strict  justice,  I  must  remark,  that 
after  all  her  various  turns  of  fortune,  and  in  the  midst 
of  this  medley  of  rigging,  she  most  evidently  retained 
the  highest  idea  of  her  original  importance  ai.d  char- 
acter, and  spoke  with  pride  and  pleasure  of  that  part 
of  her  life,  which  she  had  passed  in  her  native  coun- 
try ;  condemned  all  others,  Spain  excepted,  for  false 
taste  and  vulgar  manners,  and  finished  by  saying,  her 
hopes  now  revived  in  breathing  again  in  the  land  of 
liberty,  liberality,  and  refinement.  Being,  however, 
rather  reduced  in  her  finances,  she  began  to  look  about 
her  for  some  proper  mode,  by  which  to  get  a  reputable 
livelihood. 

Endowed  by  nature  with  great  abilities,  (and  those 
well  cultivated,  by  every  possible  advantage  of  educa- 
tion, to  fit  her  for  employments  which  required  the 
highest  taste,)  and  having  been  particularly  successful 
and  admired  by  all  the  world,  while  in  the  court  of 
her  father,  for  her  exquisite  judgment  in  enriching,  as 
well  as  adorning,  so  many  magnificent  churches, 
chapels,  and  halls,  during  all  which  time  practice  had 
added  to  the  improvement  of  her  talents ;  she  therefore 
congratulated  herself  on  her  powers,  and  immediately 
fixed  on  the  highest  department  of  her  skill,  as  the 
proper  object  of  her  future  attention,  and  best  befitting 
her  rank  and  lofty  genius.  She  now  encouraged  her- 
self in  the  most  sanguine  hopes;  in  so  much,  that  not 
a  doubt  remained  in  her  mincl,  but  that  iier  fortune  was 
made ;  especially  when  she  saw  tlie  forlorn  and  un- 
furnished condition,  as  it  appeared  to  her,  of  those 
numerous  public  buildings  of  the  kingdom.  Fired 
with  all  that  enthusiasm  which  ever  attends  on  genius, 
in  the  joy  of  her  heart  she  exclaimed,  *'  Now  it  is, 
that  I  shall  again  be  seen  in  my  original  splendour, 
and  shine  the  brighter  by  my  late  eclipse.  Behold  the 
land  abounding  with  riches  and  public  benevolence  !  a 
country  whose  annals  teem  with  records  of  heroism 


60  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

and  of  virtue !  Here  indeed  I  shall  find  room  for  the 
exertions  of  genius!  here  give  unbounded  scope  to 
fancy,  and  display  before  a  wondering  world  such 
rare  examples  of  novelty  and  of  excellence,  as  shall 
surpass,  perhaps,  all  that  I  have  already  achieved ! 
nothing  can  bar  my  way  or  intercept  my  course; — 
and  I  am  the  more  assured  of  tliis,  when  I  reflect 
upon  the  many  wealthy,  splendid,  and  liberal  conqm- 
iiieSj  which  compose  the  mighty  mass  of  this  immense 
metropolis;  all  of  whom  have  superb  halls,  in  which 
to  hold  their  councils, — and  those  remaining  un- 
adorned— surely,  it  would  seem,  on  my  account,  and 
only  so  left,  because  I  did  not  return  sooner  to  the 
kingdom." 

Thus  full  of  herself,  she  indulged  in  fantastic  rev- 
eries ;  she  fancied  the  joyful  reception  she  should 
meet  with,  on  the  discovery  of  her  person  to  those  who 
Lad  been  so  long  in  the  expectation  of  her  coming : 
and  even  enjoyed  the  idea  of  playing  off  a  kind  of 
teasing  plesanlly  upon  them,  before  she  discovered  to 
those  friends,  who  and  what  she  was. 

Her  temperature  was  a  kind  too  energetic  to  suffer 
her  to  remain  long  idle.  She,  therefore,  immediately 
began  to  put  her  plan  in  execution ;  and,  to  increase 
the  pleasure,  was  determined  to  apply,  herself  in  per- 
son, to  those  in  power,  and  surprize  her  future  patrons 
at  once  with  her  presence.  Thus  resolved,  she  sallied 
forth,  full  fraught  with  her  own  consequence,  and, 
with  courage  and  unshaken  perseverance,  as  if  Apollo 
had  gallantly  led  her  by  the  hand,  she  went  from 
liouse  to  house,  and  from  hall  to  hall,  but  soon  found 
the  difficulty  of  obtaining  admittance  to  any  of  the 
principal  persons  of  those  corporations  ;  and  w  hen,  at 
last,  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  gain  a  parley,  she 
found  it  still  more  difficult  to  make  them  comprehend 
what  it  was  she  wanted  of  them.  This  she  at  first  at- 
tributed to  her  not  being  able  to  speak  very  distinct 
English  ;  but  some  of  the  society,  who  thought  they 
understood  her  better  than  their  neighbours,  answer- 
ing for  them,  told  her  that  they  had  no  employment 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  61 

for  her  in  the  line  she  professed,  for  that  all  their  ban- 
ners and  ornaments  were  generally  painted  by  one  of 
their  own  society,  and  it  could  not  be  expected  that 
they  should  take  the  profits  and  advantages  from  him, 
to  give  it  to  a  stranger,  who  had  not  even  the  freedom 
of  the  guild. 

To  several  others  of  those  fraternities  she  was  still 
more  incomprehensible,  and  much  less  able  to  make 
her  case  clear.  They  distinctly  heard  her  use  the 
words  decorating  and  dressing  out  their  lialls  with 
taste  ;  but  taste  with  them  had  another  signification, 
and  decorating  and  dressing  were  by  them  mistaken 
for  decorating  tlieir  table  and  dressing  public  dinners ; 
and  therefore  they  answered  her,  that  they  did  not 
dress  their  dinners  in  their  halls,  that  tliey  had  a 
spacious  and  well  furnished  kitchen  for  that  purpose 
alone,  and  then  demanded  of  her  if  she  was  a  pro- 
fessed cook,  and  in  want  of  a  situation. 

To  be  thus  defeated  in  her  first  essay,  not  a  little 
discomposed  her,  and  her  spirits  sunk  on  finding  that 
nothing  was  to  be  done  in  this  channel. 

Those  opulent  traders,  whose  bounties  are  ever 
ready  in  all  cases  and  on  all  occasions  which  you  can 
once  get  them  to  comprehend,  soon  perceived  her  state 
of  chagrin  and  disappointment  with  a  sense  of  pity, 
and  were  willing  to  relieve  her  wants,  had  they  but 
known  how ;  one  way  indeed  occurred — by  them  con- 
sidered as  a  sovereign  remedy  in  such  dilemmas — to 
which  they  accordingly  had  recourse,  and,  to  stay  her 
stomach,  immediately  presented  her  with  a  large 
bason  of  the  richest  turtle  soup,  which,  in  point  of 
exquisite  taste  in  its  way,  would  not  yield  the  palm 
to  any  production  of  taste  in  her  own.  The  offer 
therefore  was  irresistible,  especially  to  a  craving  ap- 
petite just  arrived  from  France ;  she  mildly  took  it, 
smiled  on  their  simplicity,  and  eat  it,  although  in  the 
only  place  which  their  politeness  liad  allotted  her,  to 
wit,  the  porch  or  lobby,  after  which  slie  retired  to  the 
contemplation  of  her  present  forlorn  condition. 


03  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

'•  All!*'  said  she  with  a  deep  sigh,  **  here  is  no 
hope  thnt  the  great  actions  of  piiilosophers  or  heroes 
shall  adorn  their  walls,  who  are  much  more  edified  by 
viewing  in  portrait  the  honest  representation  of  some 
prudent  successful  trader,  staring  them  in  the  face,  to 
prove  how  much  may  be  gained  by  industry  and 
plodding,  without  the  help  of  learning  or  of  arts!'' 


CHAPTER  III. 

Iloia  the  Beauty  icas  disappointed  in  all  her  views, 
and  how  she  had  like  to  have  been  starved  to  death. 

After  the  cutting  repulse  (just  related)  of  our 
Beauty's  proffered  services,  she  remained  for  some 
time  in  that  state  of  painful  depression,  which  is  so 
well  known  to  all  those  who  suff'er  from  mortified  self 
opinion ;  to  which  was  added  the  immediate  fear  of 
poverty  and  dependence.  She  now  called  to  mind  her 
ancient  and  first  friend  the  Church,  and  resuming  her 
courage,  resolved  to  make  application  immediately  to 
that  excellent  source  of  patronage,  learning,  and 
benignity :  *'  Here,  at  least,"  said  she,  "  I  shall  have 
to  deal  with  persons  of  wisdom,  science,  and  piety, 
whose  minds  have  been  enlightened  by  education,  and 
whose  habits  are  directed  by  virtue.  Now  I  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  making  myself  understood ;  those 
learned  men  are  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  zeal 
I  have  shewn  in  the  service  of  morality,  and  will 
quickly  receive  me  as  a  bosom  friend,  as  they  will 
readily  perceive  that  they  have  an  opportunity  to  en- 
courage a  branch  of  science  and  of  art,  which  de- 
mands, for  the  execution  of  its  purposes  with  just 
effect,  the  closest  study,  added  to  the  highest  intel- 
lectual powers.'*' 

On  making  the  trial,  however,  she  found,  to  her 
exquisite  mortification,  that  she  was  indeed  but  too 
well  understood ;  for,  she  perceived,  that  although  her 


J 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY  63 

former  inveterate  enemies  were  dispersed,  yet  tlie  old 
prejudices  against  her  character  and  connections  stiU 
remained  in  all  their  original  force.  She  was  roughly 
answered,  that  none  of  her  raumery  or  trumppry  was 
wanted  there ;  that  her  pretensions  had  already  heen 
maturely  considered  ;  and  it  was  deemed  highly 
necessary  to  inform  her  that  her  demand  was  impious, 
that  her  seducing  character  was  clearly  and  thorough- 
ly  known,  and  her  assurance  amazing  in  applying  to 
that  source,  or  expecting  that  any  assistance  would  he 
obtained  from  it  to  such  heretical  arts  as  hers.  "  Also, 
she  must  surely  very  well  remember,  tliat  she  had 
been  already  curst  out  of  the  pale  of  the  church,  and 
no  new  reason  had  occurred  to  render  it  proper  to 
reverse  the  judgment,  which  had  been  so  dispassion- 
ately and  so  justly  passed  upon  lier ;  that  it  had  cost 
trouble  enough  to  get  rid  of  her,  and  especial  care 
would  be  taken  in  future  effectually  to  prevent  her 
ever  again  getting  any  footing  in  their  precincts ;  for 
that,  when  she  was  let  into  their  sanctuary,  she  did 
nothing  but  mischief,  by  daubing  and  scrawling  on 
the  walls,  and  playing  such  antics  as  drew  off  the 
attention  of  the  congregation  from  the  teacher,  and  his 
pious  office." 

At  hearing  this  she  trembled  exceedingly,  and  felt 
instantly  convinced  that  the  deadly  blow  to  all  her 
hopes  of  succour,  respect,  or  even  sufferance  in  this 
country,  had  been  struck  at  the  time  when  she  was 
first  attacked  by  that  horde  of  inveterate  enemies,  who 
with  such  accumulated  and  unnatural  vengeance  had 
driven  her  from  the  realm;  and  tliat,  notwithstanding 
she  might,  at  this  more  calm  time,  escape  the  rigour 
of  the  law's  power  against  her,  yet  (she  plainly  per- 
ceived)  she  should  still  be  looked  upon  as  an  alien,  as 
one  who  had  been  publicly  cursed,  and  neither  counte- 
nanced by  church  nor  state,  denied  all  degrees  in  the 
universities,  and  considered  only  as  a  base  trapping 
of  detested  popery,  or  at  best  but  a  gaudy  decorator 
of  rooms  for  banquet  or  for  revel. 


Q^  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

Tlie  curate,  the  clerk,  the  beadle,  the  tax-gatherer, 
and  the  sexton  were  all  present  at  this  interview,  and 
inucli  they  enjoyed  her  state  of  mortification,  each 
wishing  to  put  in  a  word  on  the  occasion;  when  the 
clerk  seeing  her  treated  with  so  little  ceremony,  and 
perceiving  she  was  about  to  withdraw,  boldly  ven- 
tured to  give  his  opinion,  and  plainly  told  her,  ''  That 
she  had  much  better  take  herself  off  while  she  was 
well,  and  go  practise  her  trickery  in  some  other  place, 
for  it  would  not  do  there,  and  she  might  depend  upon 
it,  that  every  thing  in  his  power  would  be  done  to 
prevent  the  evil  elfect  of  such  imiiish  fooleries." 

Then  the  curate  spoke,  and  gently  addressing  her, 
said  he  shrewdly  suspected  that  she  still  held  corres- 
pondence with  her  vile  father,  as  she  was  pleased  to 
call  him,  and  was  still  ready  and  willing  to  assist  his 
impostures. 

In  vain  with  plaintive  accents  she  pleaded  the  inno- 
cence both  of  herself  and  her  father,  in  respect  to  any 
evil  intentions  in  what  she  had  done,  and  asserted 
that  she  never  had  conceived  it  possible  that  her  work 
could  be  viewed  in  so  base  a  light !  "  Surely,"  said 
she,  "  in  its  very  worst  aspect,  it  can  only  be  con- 
sidered as  matter  of  ornament,  and  that  of  the  most 
simple  and  innocent  kind.  But  may  it  not,"  she  con- 
tinued, *•  be  also  a  silent  help  to  piety  and  reflection, 
a  means  of  instruction  to  the  unlearned  part  of  the 
world?  for  pictures,  says  Gregory  the  Great,  are 
the  books  of  the  ignorant,  where  they  may  learn 
what  they  ought  to  practise. — Can  it  be  wrong  to  pro- 
duce, by  objects  of  sight,  those  awful  ideas,  which  are 
allowed  to  be  so  eminently  useful  to  society,  when 
produced  by  words?  can  it  be  wrong  to  employ  means, 
by  which  a  more  impressive  image  is  given  of  what  has 
been  read  or  said,  than  vulgar  minds  are  able  to  con- 
ceive from  their  own  resources? — will  it  not  eventually 
tend  to  soften  the  hearts  of  the  illiterate  ?" 

'^  The  instructions  which  are  given  to  the  young, 
should  be  pithy  and  short,  as  they  will  the  sooner  hear 
them,  and  the  better  keep  them;  and  the  words  of 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  (55 

Seneca  are,  ^  that  men  ought  to  teach  their  children 
the  liberal  sciences,  if  not  because  those  sciences  may 
give  any  virtue,  yet  because  their  minds  by  them  are 
made  apt  to  receive  any  virtue.'  Such  is  tlie  nature 
of  that  instruction,  which  is  derived  from  the  works  of 
my  art,  that  the  idle  and  unlettered,  by  the  repeated 
view  and  contemplation  of  the  characters  and  actions 
which  I  shew  them,  beaming  with  di\  inity  and  with 
morality,  have  their  own  minds  sown,  even  before  they 
are  aware,  with  the  seeds  of  purity,  compassion,  and 
of  general  benevolence,  and  virtue  made  familiar  to 
them;  for  ^  virtue  is  that  alone  which  maketh  men  on 
earth  truly  famous,  in  their  graves  glorious,  and  in 
heaven  immortal.' " 

However,  this  fine  speech  not  being  very  clearly 
comprehended  by  her  auditors,  the  clerk  smartly  told 
her  to  hold  her  deluding  tongue;  tljat  she  was  a  very 
wicked  creature,  and  that  her  tricks  and  wiles  were  of 
the  most  dangerous  tendency. 

The  curate  desired  the  clerk  not  to  be  so  flippant  of 
speech,  for  he  would  take  upon  himsnlf  to  lecture  her. 
He  then  calmly  told  her,  that  she  was  a  wretched, 
beggarly,  hanger  on  upon  the  public,  a  sort  of  ex- 
crescence, and  considered  as  a  burthen  by  all  who 
knew  her;  a  kind  of  tax  on  the  rich,  who  had  so 
many  better  ways  of  bestowing  their  money  than  to 
pamper  her  in  pride;  one  whom  they  had  not  the  heart 
to  starve,  and  yet  begrudged  the  expense  to  maintain 
— and  the  most  costly  of  all  toad-eaters;  an  enthusias- 
tic visionary,  who  imagined  herself,  from  conceit  and 
partiality,  to  be  something  more  than  mortal,  and,  like 
the  tomb  of  Mahomet,  to  be  suspended  between 
heaven  and  earth,  and  would  scarcely  know  to  which 
she  belonged,  if  hunger  did  not  teach  her;  adding^ 
that  she  must  be  possessed  of  a  most  astonishing 
share  of  arrogance,  still  to  persist  in  her  fulsome 
notions  of  fancied  importance,  when  she  must  so 
clearly  see  her  worthlessness  demonstrated  in  this 
single  fact,  that  neither  church  nor  state  gave  her 
presumptuous  claims  the  least  countenance,  but  ap- 


m  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

peared  to  be  clearly  of  opiDion,  that  the  whole  wliich 
could  be  done,  by  the  utmost  exertions  of  her  powers, 
was  not,  on  their  part,  worth  the  smallest  attention. 
They  saw  her  in  her  true  colours,  as  an  useless  in- 
truder on  society;  even  the  very  citizens  beheld  her 
with  indifference,  if  not  with  scorn:  and,  as  the  proverb 
justly  observes,  '^  that  which  every  body  says  must  be 
true,*' — that  is  past  denying. 

The  clerk,  interrupting  the  curate,  observed  with  a 
significant  smile  on  his  countenance,  that  a  good 
singer  (the  clerk  was  very  fond  of  vocal  music,  and 
was  blessed  with  a  tolerable  tenor  pipe  of  his  own,) 
or  even  a  dancer,  was  worth  a  million  of  such  vermin 
as  herself;  which  was  evidently  and  repeatedly 
proved  before  her  face,  and  truly  by  the  most  unques- 
tionable and  weightiest  test,  to  wit,  the  vast  difference 
in  their  rewards. 

Then  the  beadle,  winking  one  eye  in  drollery,  arch- 
ly said,  that  if  there  was  no  other  way  of  silencing 
her  perpetual  whining  and  moaning,  as  if  she  was  a 
person  really  injured,  and  had  a  cause  of  complaint, 
they  would  soon  quiet  her  by  setting  the  law  at  her 
heels,  and  shew  her  the  way  out  of  the  kingdom  again 
as  an  alien,  without  any  demonstrable  way  of  liveli- 
hood ;  or  else  set  her  in  the  stocks,  where  she  might 
complain  at  her  leisure  with  some  cause ;  but  here  the 
curate  told  him  he  was  quite  vulgar,  and  also  wrong, 
— that  she  had  not  broken  the  law,  and  therefore 
could  not  be  so  treated. 

Then  the  tax-gatherer,  who  was  the  most  intimate 
chum  of  the  sexton,  and  had  often  helped  him  to  a  job, 
slily  whispered  him  that  she  was  a  vile  hypocrite, 
and  only  pretended  poverty  to  save  herself  from  his 
clutches,  and  that  he  should  soon  attack  her  for  his 
dues,  besides  letting  the  informer  bring  a  handsome 
surcharge  on  her;  as  he  was  very  well  assured  that 
she  had  a  quantity  of  concealed  jewels  about  her, 
which  she  had  hidden,  on  purpose  to  elude  their 
search. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  67 

Lastly,  the  sexton  spoke,  ami  finished  the  conver- 
sation, by  shrewdly  observing,  (making  his  bow,) 
that  he  should  be  very  happy  to  dig  her  grave,  and 
made  no  doubt  but,  when  she  had  been  starved  to 
death,  she  would  be  finally  dismissed  by  her  few 
friends,  with  a  most  pompous  and  splendid  funeral, 
and  therefore  desired  that  he  might  engage  his  friend 
the  undertaker  for  her,  as  he  was  apt  to  believe  she 
was  a  much  more  profitable  article  to  deal  with  in  any 
manner  when  dead  than  when  alive. 

To  be  again  rejected,  again  despised,  was  too  mucli 
even  for  philosophy  to  bear.  Almost  overwhelmed 
with  grief,  even  to  despair,  she  returned  to  her 
habitation,  where,  mipitied  and  alone,  she  vented  her 
anguish  in  a  flood  of  tears.  This  second  banishment 
struck  her  with  the  greater  mortification,  because  her 
last  dependence  had  been  on  the  church,  which  had 
always  given  her  protection,  and  had  been  her  great- 
est friend,  except  at  that  particular  period  when 
bigoted,  hypocritical,  puritanical,  enthusiastical  ene- 
mies of  her,  and  of  all  true  taste,  had  driven  her  from 
the  laud.  She  had  reason  to  expect  no  other  treatment 
from  barbarians — they  had  their  own  schemes  to 
promote;  but  when  it  came  upon  her  from  the  mild, 
the  educated,  and  refined,  it  wounded  her  to  the  very 
soul.  The  insults  of  the  vulgar  we  can  with  ease  pass 
over,  but  contempt  from  the  good,  although  from  mis- 
take,  is  truly  terrible.  "  Surely,"  said  she,  "  the 
soul  payeth  dear  for  hire  in  the  body,  consideriug 
what  she  there  endureth!" 


68  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

An  Account  of  the  Beautifs  two  Sisters ;  how  one  of 
them  was  fortunate,  courted,  and  indulged,  till  she 
grew  so  bulky,  that  some  thought  she  took  up  too 
much  Room  when  at  Church  ;  and  how  the  other 
was  half  starved,  and  as  lean  as  a  Gridiron:  serv- 
ing to  -prove  that  some  Folks  find  it  as  much  Trouble 
to  digest  Meat,  as  others  to  get  it. 

As  in  a  former  part  of  my  history  I  gave  some  ac- 
count of  a  cousin-german  of  our  heroine,  I  shall  in  this 
take  notice  <)f  certain  others  of  her  relatives,  as  not  un- 
important to  my  main  purpose  ;  for  there  was  a  cir- 
cumstance rather  curious,  which  helped  not  a  little  to 
aggravate  the  mortification  attending  our  Beauty's  de- 
plorable state,  and  she  could  not  but  feel  it  witii  great 
pain,  whenever  she  reflected  upon  it.  This  was  the 
instance  of  a  favoured  sister,  who  was  also  resident 
in  this  country,  and  had  met  with  unbounded  success 
in  all  her  undertakings.  As  their  pretentions  were  not 
very  dissimilar,  she  could  not  help  wondering  by  what 
means  her  sisler  could  have  obtained  so  decided  a 
preference.  The  girl  was  certainly  a  comely,  person- 
sonable  wench,  but  she  had  a  heart  of  marble,  and  a 
face  of  brass ;  indeed,  she  was  apparently  composed  of 
very  diflerent  materials  from  her  sister.  This  young 
lady  was  just  as  remarkable  for  being  the  object  of 
singular  indulgence,  as  our  Beauty  was  of  persecu- 
tion, scorn,  and  neglect,  and  most  particularly  with 
the  very  same  hierarchy  which  had  denounced  our 
heroine  by  a  curse,  and  prohibited  her  entrance  into 
its  sanctuaries.  This  brazen-faced  sister,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  a  prodigious  favourite,  and  had  an  uncon 
trouled  power,  insomuch  that,  by  her  will  and  com- 
mand, she  would  often  stop  up  the  finest  window  in 
the  cliurch  from  a  mere  whim.  Sometimes  she  would 
only  modestly  seat  herself  directly  in  the  window,  so 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTV.  69 

as  to  obscure  the  light  something  less  than  stopping  it 
up  entirely.  Then  she  would  make  no  scruple  at  any 
time  to  sap  the  principal  pillars  of  support,  root  up  the 
foundation,  build  up  partition  walls  in  the  aisles  from 
the  floor  to  the  roof,  bore  great  holes  in  the  walls,  or 
open  new  windows  in  them  to  serve  her  purpose,  cover 
the  pavement,  and  by  that  means  prohibit  the  sexton 
and  clergy  from  their  perquisites  gained  by  burial 
ground.  Still  all  those  whims  were  sulFered  without  a 
murmur,  and  so  very  far  was  this  partiality  extended 
to  the  pampered  favourite,  that  her  patrons,  with  the 
utmost  readiness,  always  made  a  handsome  recom- 
pense for  all  the  damage  she  might  at  times  occasion 
in  any  of  her  ingenious  fantasies,  in  some  of  which  she 
would  stick  herself  up  in  the  midst  of  a  cathedral, 
with  her  elbows  held  out,  so  that  you  could  scarcely 
pass  by  her,  or,  if  you  attempted  it,  she  would  break 
your  shins  with  her  great  feet;  for  of  late  she  was 
grown  enormously  bulky;  and  if  you  dared  to  com- 
plain, she  would  quickly  clear  the  way  before  her 
with  an  iron  bar.  At  other  times,  in  order  to  shew 
her  iigure  (which  she  thought  was  a  good  one)  to 
advantage,  she  would  throw  herself  into  such  attitudes 
as  would  shew  her  nakedness  even  to  indecency,  and 
all  this  with  a  face  of  bronze  that  nothing  would  dis- 
may; foreside  or  any  side  was  the  same  to  her. 

In  short,  she  had  been  so  long  in  the  habit  of  taking 
liberties,  and  her  protectors  so  long  in  the  habit  of 
suffering  them,  that  she  seemed,  both  to  them  and  to 
herself,  to  be  infallible,  and  was  accordingly  so 
treated,  just  as  if  she  had  given  them  love-powder. 

The  surprizing  difference  in  the  treatment  wliich 
these  two  sisters  met  with,  I  never  was  able  to  ac- 
count for,  nor  am  I  at  present  able  to  solve  the  pro- 
blem. 

I  have  already  said,  that  whatever  she  did,  the 
church  and  the  state  were  well  pleased;  she  was  also 
as  great  a  favourite  with  the  cily,  and,  in  short,  for- 
tune was  ever  in  her  favour.  In  the  city,  she  would 
sometimes  exhibit  herself  in  the   streets  or   public 

3      Cv 


70  VAUIETIES  OX  ART. 

squares,  and  display  her  feats  in  liorsemansliip;  but 
in  this  attempt  slie  generally  cut  but  an  a^Ykard  figure, 
and  rather  failed  in  her  cast  of  this  character,  as 
frequently,  on  those  £;ay  occasions,  she  seemed  to 
)iave  lost  all  sense  of  shame:  for  somelimes  she  would 
jinpear  rigged  out  in  the  habit  of  a  Roman  Emperor 
of  old,  and  sometimes  she  would  exhibit  herself  pig- 
tailed,  wilh  a  cocked  hat  and  a  pair  of  jack  boots,  at 
other  times  with  a  large  old  fashioned  wig,  which 
reached  down  to  her  middle;  yet  her  patrons  were 
still  so  delighted  with  all  her  pranks,  that  they  not 
only  indulged,  but  rewarded  her  vagaries  with  enor- 
mous grants  of  thirty  thousand  pounds  at  a  time:  for 
she  was  prodigiously  expensive,  as  nothing  would 
suit  her  purpose,  unless  it  came  from  a  foreign  coun- 
ti'y ;  "  far  fetclied  and  dear  bought/'  must  serve  her 
turn,  so  that  no  small  allowance  would  suffice  for  her, 
altiiougli  one  quarter  of  the  sum  would  have  enabled 
lier  sister  to  shine  with  the  utmost  splendour;  for  our 
Beauty  was  modest,  unobtrusive,  and,  though  pleas- 
ing in  all  her  manners  to  every  body,  never  ran  into 
any  expense,  but,  on  the  contrary,  she  could  give  a 
value  to  that  which  had  none  in  itself  before;  and  was 
60  humble  in  her  deportment,  that  wherever  she  came, 
she  made  it  a  point  to  stick  herself  as  close  to  the  wall 
as  a  limpet  to  a  rock,  for  fear  of  offending,  but  some- 
how she  was  always  unfortunate,  and  all  her  care  was 
but  labour  lost.  Although  she  felt  much  pleasure  in 
lier  fat  sister's  prosperity,  and  would  have  been  glad 
of  any  opportunity  to  assist  it,  as  she  thought  it  a  just 
encouragement,  yet  she  could  not  survey  this  lavish, 
imbounded,  and  partial  preference,  but  with  desiring 
eyes,  as  some  half-starved  cur,  at  humble  distance, 
glances  a  longing  look  at  a  well-fed  spaniel,  who  is 
feasting  on  the  rich  repast  of  a  fine  marrow-bone.  One 
thing,  however,  must  be  allowed  in  favour  of  this 
sister,  which  was,  that  she  always  spoke  well  of  the 
dead,  audit  proved  to  be  of  infinite  service  to  her. 
Thus,  for  instance,  she  would  get  up  in  the  midst  of 
tlie  church;  and,  in  her  own  way,  make  long  harangues 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  ^1 

ill  various  languages,  filled  with  flaitery  and  falsR- 
liood,  praising  the  dead  to  gratify  the  living.  It  is 
true,  it  all  went  for  notliing,  as  nobody  attended  to 
her,  or  believed  one  word  of  what  she  said,  yet  it  got 
her  many  friends  among  those  wiio  were  convinced 
of  the  necessity  of  such  a  helper. 

There  was  also  another  sister,  who  was  very  in- 
genious, but,  as  she  was  not  able  to  serve  either  city, 
church,  nor  state,  by  any  of  her  performances,  she 
passed  lier  time  in  a  most  ragged  condition. — I  ap- 
prehend she  is  now  defunct,  as  I  have  heard  nothing 
from  her  for  some  time  past.  In  truth,  any  account  of 
her  is  unnecessary  to  our  present  purpose,  therefore 
she  is  not  worth  our  notice.  However,  as  I  have 
mentioned  her,  I  will  take  tlie  liberty  just  to  give  a 
few  particular  traits  of  this  lady's  character.  In  the 
first  place,  she  was  a  great  talker,  and  delighted  in 
words,  in  so  much,  that  one  of  her  fancies  was  to  set 
them  down  in  curious  shapes  and  rows,  and  she 
would  tiien  look  at  them  with  uncommon  pleasure, 
always  concluding,  that  every  one  who  saw  them. 
would  be  as  much  delighted  with  them  as  herself. 
In  this  way  she  spent  a  great  deal  of  her  time,  and 
was  so  diverted  with  this  play,  that  she  conceis'eil, 
even  w'hen  it  produced  ever  so  great  nonsense,  thai, 
thus  disguised,  it  would  pass  for  sense;  for  like  a 
good  confectioner,  she  well  knew  that  even  wecd'^ 
will  be  eaten  as  a  delicacy,  when  embalmed  in  sugar. 
However  I  am  to  acknowledge,  that  when  she  was  in 
her  truly  highest  flights,  she  was  really  sublime.  She 
most  commonly  assisted  her  fortunate  sister  in  making 
her  solemn  church  orations. 

She  was  the  eldest,  the  proudest,  and  the  poorest 
of  the  three; — I  say  the  poorest,  because  each  of  the 
others  had  known  some  intervals  of  prosperity,  and 
eveu  affluence:  she  never.  Her  whole  life  was  spent 
as  a  pauper.  Yet  she  carried  herself  with  an  ah-  of 
the  utmost  dignity,  even  when  she  had  neitiier  stock- 
ings nor  shoes  to  her  poor  feet.  The  only  favour 
shewn  to  her  in  this  country,  that  I  ever  heard  of^ 


73  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

was  that  she  got  a  little  matter  by  singing  ^'  God  save 
the  King"  on  festivals,  now  and  then  a  cup  of  sack 
given  to  cherish  her  soul,  and  the  promise  of  a  hand- 
some burial  place  at  her  demise. 


CHAPTER  V. 

How  the  beauty  bemoaned  herself,  and  how  she  set  her- 
self up  in  a  Chandler^s  Shop  to  relieve  her  Wants, 
also  of  her  new  Schemes  which  ended  in  Smoke.  How 
she  tvas  annoyed  and  harrassed  by  a  Phantom  sup- 
posed to  be  her  Grandmother's;  and  had  it  to  combat 
with  as  if  she  had  been  her  murderer. 

All  hopes  had  now  left  our  fair  forlorn,  and  she 
had  reason  most  bitterly  to  lament  her  fallen  state  and 
misapplied  industry.  After  having  spent  her  life  in 
the  acquirement  of  the  most  accomplislied  education, 
assisted  by  natural  endowments  of  the  highest  degree, 
the  power  and  value  of  all  which  had  been  so  often 
tried  and  proved  in  other  countries,  she  at  last  per- 
ceived all  were  iueifectual  to  procure  her  a  bit  of 
bread.  lu  this  pitiable  condition  she  remained,  not 
knowing  what  course  to  pursue,  till  her  pale  and  thin 
cheeks  would  have  met,  had  not  her  unused  jaws 
been  placed  between  them :  her  now  dim  eyes,  that 
once  so  sparkled  with  vivid  expression,  were  sunk  in 
their  sockets  almost  to  the  back  part  of  her  head,  and 
lier  emaciated,  though  once  graceful,  arms,  hung  at 
her  sides  like  two  walking  sticks ;  in  short,  she  seemed 
hastening  apace  to  her  final  dissolution.  She  had 
been  so  stunned  by  disappointments  which  she  little 
expected,  that  the  sudden  shock  had  deprived  her  of 
all  power  or  strengtli  to  support  herself,  and  she 
would  sit  for  hours  like  a  statue  of  despair.  Some- 
times in  soft  accents,  scarcely  audible,  she  would  say, 
"  Poor  mistaken  mortal  that  I  am,  why  did  I  haste 
to  rise  up  early,  and  so  late  take  rest,  and  eat  the 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  73> 

bread  of  carefulness  ?  Why  with  unceasing  industry 
mis-spend  my  young  unprofitable  days?  Why  did 
the  rising  sun  so  oft  bear  witness  to  my  labours,  or 
the  midnight  lamp  so  oft  protract  their  length  ?  And 
why,  deluding  visionary,  Fame,  did  I  become  tliy 
votary?  Was  it  to  live  in  poverty  and  die  in  want? 
Had  those  untired  exertions  of  my  youth  and  strength 
been  well  directed  to  profit  and  to  vvbolesome  trade,  I 
had  not  now  been  left  forlorn,  I  might  liave  seen  thy 
poor  inveigled  worshippers  (thou  syren  Fame)  bring 
ojQferings  and  lay  them  at  my  feet/' 

In  this  state  of  dejection  and  melancholy  she  could 
not  have  held  out  long;  but  suddenly  recollecting 
herself,  she  perceived  that  something  must  be  done  to 
save  herself  from  perisliing,  and  tliat  quickly  too. 

This  thought  awakened  her  from  her  dreadful 
dream,  she  clearly  felt  that  she  was  philosopher 
enough  to  wish  still  to  live,  and  therefore,  set  about 
the  means  of  life  with  much  alacrity.  But  poor  as  she 
was,  tlie  only  thing  she  could  resolve  upon  was  to  set 
herself  up  in  a  little  chandler's  shop,  and,  as  the  goods 
which  she  intended  to  deal  in  were  not  of  a  very 
expensive  kind,  she  was  soon  able  to  furnish  out  her 
little  warehouse.  For  the  chief  articles  on  which  her 
trade  depended  were  chalk,  charcoal,  stained  paper, 
Indian  ink,  brick-dust,  matches,  farthing  rush-lights, 
sand,  small  beer,  and  gingerbread.  She  also  dealt  in 
gilded  gingerbread :  indeed  she  used  no  gold  on  the 
occasion,  her  price  would  not  afford  any  thing  more 
costly  than  Dutch  metal,  which,  although  it  pleased 
children  and  ignorant  customers,  had  a  copperish  taste 
with  it ;  but  she  always  declared  that  it  would  have 
been  much  more  gratifying  to  her  to  have  put  real 
gold,  if  she  could  but  have  had  a  price  accordingly.. 
In  this  small  way,  she  made  shift,  by  great  economy, 
to  pick  up  a  livelihood,  for  as  she  dwelt  in  the  neigh -^ 
bourhood  of  Paternoster  Row,  all  those  that  lived  in 
the  Row  became  her  principal  customers,  they  made  a 
point  of  dealing  with  her,  and  she  sold  them  neat 
articles. 


74  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

Possessed  of  that  native  liumility  which  is  the 
characteristic  mark  of  innate  greatness  of  mind,  she 
submitted  to  her  lot,  making  only  this  reflection: 
"  Useless  toil !  I  strove,  to  elevate  and  dignify  my 
mind  by  frequent  contemjdation  of  those  awful  antique 
remains,  those  illustrious  proofs  and  records  of  my 
high  descent,  only  to  qualify  me  to  keep  a  chandler's 
shop,  to  be  the  retailer  of  gingerbread !" 

At  leisure  times,  when  not  better  employed,  she 
would  put  her  hand  to  miniature  painting,  and  place 
some  specimens  in  her  shop  window,  propping  them 
up  by  cheese  or  caudles,  and  writing  under  them  in 
very  legible  characters,  "  Likenesses  taken  equal  to 
this  at  seven  and  sixpence  each,  frame  included." 
Indeed  various  Avere  the  ways,  which  necessity,  the 
mother  of  invention,  forced  her  to  try,  to  pick  up  a 
precarious  maintenance,  "  Surely,*'  said  she,  ^^  if  the 
mind  is  truly  noble,  it  shuns  neither  toil  nor  danger 
when  it  finds  itself  assaulted  by  poverty,  and  true 
virtue  will  labour  like  the  sun  to  enlighten  the  world." 

To  further  her  laudable  purposes,  she  now  resolved 
to  give  public  lectures  on  morality,  character,  and 
manners,  which  she  was  well  qualified  to  do;  and 
those  moral  eflusions  were  interspersed  with  the  finest 
wit  imaginable,  which  she  concluded  would  render 
them  more  palatable  to  the  public  vulgar.  In  these, 
the  rake,  the  harlot,  the  miser,  and  the  spendthrift, 
were  pourtrayed  in  the  most  animated  colours.  But 
she  found  to  her  sorrow,  that  all  her  eloquence  was 
addressed  to  deaf  ears,  nor  did  tiiis  scheme  succeed 
while  it  continued  in  her  hands,  for  her  rooms  were 
very  thinly  attended,  and,  fearing  she  might  get  into 
debt  by  it,  s\\6  desisted.  She  had  also  been  much 
annoyed  in  the  course  of  her  scheme  by  a  large  butch- 
er's mastifi*,  named  Carlo,*  which  was  continually 
barking  and  snarling  at  her,  and  sometimes  even  bit 
her,  and  tore  her  clothes  in  a  sad  manner. 

These  lectures  were  afterwards  published,  and  sold 

*  Churchill's  Epistle  to  Hogarth. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  75 

tvell,  and  were  most  deservedly  admired,— but  that 
unfortunately  happened  when  the  property,  or  other 
benefit,  was  no  longer  hers. 

Another  circumstance  I  shall  relate,  which  not  only 
much  mortified  her,  but  likewise  did  her  considerable 
injury.  There  were  certain  deep  connoisseurs  in 
Beauty  and  Taste,  who  had  seen  and  admired  her 
excellent  works,  while  she  was  in  her  first  state  at  the 
court  of  her  father,  but  who  never  personally  knew 
lier.  All  those,  on  her  appearance  in  this  country, 
protested  against  her  as  being  an  impostor.  They 
came  and  looked  most  sharply  at  her  with  spectacles 
and  glasses  to  help  their  sight,  and  then  pronounced 
her  not  the  same  person  that  she  pretended,  or  if  amj 
relation,  she  must  be  the  daughter  or  rather  grand- 
daughter of  their  former  acquaintance,  for  they  affected 
to  have  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  old  lady,  as 
they  called  her,  and  were  very  indignant,  whenever 
our  Beauty  dared  to  mention  herself  as  bearing  the 
smallest  comparison  with  tlieir  favourite^  who  was 
*'  a  fine  stately  figure,  elegantly  formed,  of  a  most 
beautiful  complexion,  graceful  in  all  her  actions,  full 
of  interest  in  her  countenance,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  that 
were  killing.  But  as  for  herself,"  they  said,  "  merely 
to  conceive  that  there  was  any  resemblance  betweeii 
two  such  opposite  figures,  appeared  like  absolute 
insanity.  She,  who  was  a  long  shanked,  raw  boned, 
ill  proportioned,  awkard,  dirty  coloured,  squinting 
creature!" — -In  answer  to  which,  she  would  readily 
acknowledge  that  there  was,  in  truth,  a  vast  difference 
in  her  present  appearance,  from  that  which  she  made 
when  in  the  court  of  her  father,  and  under  his  protec- 
tion ;  that  she  was  then  easy  in  her  mind,  and  a  bless- 
ing seemed  to  attend  on  all  her  ways,  but  that  now 
she  was  half  starved,  which  was  not  her  fault,  and 
that  she  should  be  much  better  looking,  if  she  was  in 
better  plight  5  but  this  answer  only  served  to  aggravate 
their  rage,  and  make  them  hate  her  more  for  her 
abominable  and  disgusting  self-conceit,  as  they  termed 
it. 


76  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

And  so  far  did  these  enthusiastic  devotees  carry 
their  admiration  of  the  supposed  old  gentlewoman, 
her  grand-mother,  as  to  think  (and  they  would  main, 
tain  it  too)  that  there  was  more  of  the  true  line  of 
beauty,  and  more  shapeliness,  to  be  seen  in  the  old 
woman's  mere  stockings  than  in  our  heroine's  real 
legs  ;  and  nothing  is  more  common,  even  now,  than  to 
meet  with  fortunate  persons  who  possess  some  trump- 
ery relic,  such  as  an  old  cast  off  pair  of  siioes,  which 
have  been  since  worn  by  others,  and  perhaps  have 
been  more  than  once  heel-tapped  and  new  soaled  ;  yet 
this  morsel  they  will  shew  with  all  the  happy  effront- 
ery of  ignorance,  as  the  most  accomplislied  model  pos- 
sible of  a  perfect  female  foot,  and  keep  it  with  the 
greatest  veneration  in  a  magnificent  cabinet,  as  a  most 
precious  curiosity.  It  is  enough  for  them  that  it  once 
was  fine.  I  have  known  a  thousand  pounds  in  pure 
sterling  gold  given  for  one  of  her  old  night-caps,  in 
which  a  thousand  holes  had  been  darned  up ;  and  five 
hundred  pounds  for  an  old  wig,  on  the  mere  assurance 
that  it  had  been  the  very  wig  of  tlicir  old  woman ; 
nay,  many  of  these  virtuosi  have  been  seized  with 
such  a  mania,  that  very  large  fortunes  have  been  made 
by  dealers  in  those  ragged  remains,  by  mere  imposi- 
tions on  the  wealthy  iguorant,  selling  them  the  old 
clothes  of  otiiers,  while  boldly  asserting  that  they  had 
been  hers ;  and  to  such  a  length  has  the  practice  been 
carried,  that  it  has  occasioned  frequent  law-suits, 
whenever  by  some  chance  the  cheat  has  been  dis- 
covered; for  as  no  palpable  evidence  of  its  value 
could  be  found  in  the  article  itself,  the  proof  of  its 
authenticity  has  wholly  rested  on  the  word  and  honor 
of  tlie  seller,  which  commonly  served  as  a  sufficient 
testimony  with  the  small  degree  of  knowledge  in  the 
buyer. 

Certain  of  those  virtuosi,  who  had  a  more  favour- 
able opinion  of  her,  would  at  times  trust  in  her  hands 
some  of  those  inestimable  rags  for  her  to  repair  and 
put  in  order,  as  not  unfrequently  it  was  far  from  very 
clear  what  had  been  their  original  form  or  use,  and 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY  77 

she,  from  the  lack  of  better  employ,  would  patiently 
apply  her  time  to  furbish  up  the  tattered  rubbish,  and 
would  most  meekly  turn,  scour,  and  dye  (to  please 
them)  her  own  former  cast-oif  clothes,  and  by  this 
means  make  them  look  worth  something ;  and  she  has 
afterwards  seen  them  sold  for  fifty  times  their  original 
cost. 

All  this  did  most  certainly  much  irritate  the  spirit 
of  our  Beauty,  and  she  cast  about  for  the  means  of  do- 
ing herself  some  justice,  yet  knew  not  how :  at  last 
she  devised  a  mode,  as  I  shall  shew  in  the  next  Book. 


3  H 


BOOK  III. 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  great  Advantages  of  Learning. 

AVe  now  draw  near  the  end  of  our  Beauty's  piteous 
tale,  as  at  this  place  we  enter  on  its  finishing  book; 
therefore  the  most  fastidious  reader  need  not  be  im- 
patient. 

That  I  have  not  rendered  this  narrative  a  source  of 
amusement  to  those  who  have  condescended  to  notice 
it,  I  sincerely  regret;  first  on  my  own  account, 
secondly  on  my  reader's,  and  lastly  on  the  Beauty's  : 
but  I  am  unlearned,  and  therefore  circumscribed  in 
power;  I  am  ignorant  of  all  those  means  of  insinuation 
by  which  truth  becomes  irresistible,  and  even  false- 
hood may  be  adorned  so  as  to  have  the  semblance  of 
truth.  Learning  and  I  are  strangers  to  each  other:  I 
have  not  to  complain  that  its  painful,  though  useful, 
tasks  were  ever  ungraciously  forced  upon  me  on  any 
side.  From  this  fiitality  of  my  youth,  my  riper  age 
must  sufler,  and  the  early  opportunities  I  have  lost  I 
may  regret,  but  am  now  unable  to  repair.  In  vain  I 
call  to  my  remembrance  the  bright  example  which 
•was  once  before  my  eyes,  when  I  did  not  avail  myself 
of  the  proffered  blessing  ;  but  youth  and  ignorance  at 
the  time  rendered  me  insensible  of  the  singular  ad- 
vantage in  respect  to  learning  then  within  my  reach : 
for  I  had  a  little  crooked  uncle,  who  was  a  very  great 
scholar:  and  the  article  on  which  he  piqued  himself 
most  was,  his  profound  knowledge  of  the  Greek.  It 
is  a  real  fact,  that  the  comfort  which  he  derived  from 
it  tended  much  to  lengthen  his  life.  He  would  strut 
about  the  room  on  his  two  little  legs,  that  looked  like 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  ^9 

drum-sticks  with  stockings  on  them,  and,  with  an 
Aristophanes  in  his  hands,  read  aloud,  so  that  you 
might  hear  him  all  the  house  over. 

He  always  signed  liis  name  in  Greek ;  he  had  the 
motto  to  his  coat  of  arms  in  Greek;  wliatever  subject 
you  started  to  talk  upon,  he  would  quote  some  old 
Grecian,  and  give  the  very  text  with  all  the  import- 
ance of  an  oracle;  then,  in  humble  compassion  to  his 
auditors,  would  turn  it  into  vulgar  English  for  them, 
though  very  often  at  the  time,  (from  my  ignorance  of 
its  supreme  excellence,)  I  have  foolishly''  thought,  that 
had  the  same  sentence  been  found  first  in  plain  En- 
glish, nobody  would  have  supposed  it  worth  tiieii 
while  to  have  remembered  it:  such  as  "  that  one  half 
was  more  than  the  whole,"  and  that  "  when  the  Gods 
wanted  to  destroy  a  man,  they  first  caused  him  to  run 
mad."  I  have  often  wished  to  ask  him  what  the  Gods 
would  do  as  the  second  operation  on  the  ill-fated 
object  of  their  wrath?  but  I  had  so  much  respect  for 
him,  that  I  feared  to  offend  him. 

It  has  been  frequent  matter  of  wonder  to  me,  what 
should  have  made  him  so  very  partial  to  those  Greeks, 
for  he  was  very  unlike  any  of  their  statues  that  I  had 
ever  seen.  What  he  most  resembled  of  any  of  tiie 
Grecian  figures,  that  I  can  recollect,  was  one  of  those 
in  their  alphabet.  However,  I  was  at  last  fully  con- 
vinced by  him,  that,  of  all  human  blessings  or  ac- 
quirements, it  must  be  acknowledged  the  first  is  un- 
doubtedly that  of  understanding  Greek :  for  as  the 
poet  says  of  madness,  so  it  may  be  said  of  Greek, 
'*^  that  there  is  a  pleasure  in  knowing  Greek,  which 
none  but  Grecians  know."  Advantages  from  all  sides 
attend  it:  it  acts  like  an  universal  armour,  and  pro- 
tects its  possessor  from  the  crush  of  every  assailant. 
A  man  may  be  whoremonger,  a  drunkard,  a  liar,  and 
a  thief — he  quickly  obliterates  all  tUsgrace,  by  proving 
that  he  understands  Greek. 

The  deep  read  scholar,  who  can  converse  with 
Homer  and  Euripides  in  tlie  originals,  becomes  well 
entitled  to  look  down  with  contempt  on  those  latter 


80  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

efforts  of  ingenuity,  which  fill  the  unlearned  with 
wonder  and  delight.  He  who  has  read  the  mighty 
works  of  the  ancients  in  their  purity,  must  hehold, 
with  pity,  the  comparative  puny  attempts  of  Shaks- 
peare  or  of  Milton,  as,  in  competition  with  the  Belvi- 
dere  Apollo  or  Farnesian  Hercules,  will  appear  the 
ill-formed  figure  of  mortal  man. 

The  first  knowledge,  therefore,  I  would  give  a 
child,  is  that  of  Greek,  an  everlasting  source  of 
pleasure,  and  a  power  which  enahles  him  to  stem  all 
storms. 

The  man  proud  of  high  l)irth,  or  conscious  of  supe- 
rior genius,  exulting  in  his  riches,  or  vain  of  his 
beauty,  even  the  tyrant  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power, 
has  moments  when  those  advantages  cease  to  give  hira 
pleasure,  and  are  not  even  in  his  thoughts :  but  the 
Grecian's  enjoyment  is  perpetual;  there  is  no  instant 
of  his  life  in  which  it  is  forgot ;  sleeping  or  waking,  in 
sickness  and  in  health,  in  riches  or  poverty,  drunk  or 
sober,  it  is  still  his  comfort,  and  is  ever  in  his  mind : 
and  certain  it  is,  th.at  real  happiness  is  not  to  be  found 
under  the  sun  but  by  those  who  understand  Greek. 

Surely  this  is  the  great  arcanum,  without  which 
true  felicity  is  not  to  be  possessed ;  and  he  who  finds 
it,  pants  with  uncontroulaljle  impatience  till  he  lets 
you  know  the  vastuess  of  his  possession. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Beauty's  Brother  introduced  to  the  Reader;  also 
her  new  Projects,  such  as  the  World  could  not 
comprehend  ;  ichich  made  some  Folks  take  her  to 
be  mad,  others,  only  to  he  a  Fool. 

In  this  narrative  I  have  confined  myself,  for  the 
sake  of  brevity,  as  much  as  it  was  in  ray  power,  to  the 
matters  which  immediately  concerned  our  heroine 
only,  and  have  encumbered  it  as  little  as  possible  with 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  81 

her  relations ;  but  I  now  find  the  necessity  of  mention- 
ing one  very  near  of  kin,  who  was  bred  up  with  her, 
and  had  been  a  partaker  of  all  the  advantages  she 
had  enjoyed  in  her  own  country.  They  loved  each 
other  from  infancy,  and  were  examples  of  benevolence 
and  cordial  affection,  till  of  late  years  indeed  they 
had  been  separated;  she  had  sunk  in  her  circum- 
stances, and  her  brother,  for  such  he  was,  had  been 
busy  and  forgot  her.  He  was  a  handsome,  active, 
well  built  fellow,  had  an  excellent  front  and  a  good 
foundation,  besides  innumerable  firm  pillars  of  sup- 
port. From  his  early  youth  he  had  given  his  mind  to 
the  study  of  the  mathematics  and  geometry,  and 
stood  well  in  the  world  by  his  ingenuity,  being  every 
where  wanted;  and  as  his  poor  sister  was  now  be- 
come low  and  obscure,  she  never  once  came  into  his 
mind.  It  was  curious  to  observe,  that,  although  he 
had  the  command  of  a  great  many  superb  mansions, 
yet  he  never  had  thought  of  offering  to  let  his  sister 
into  any  one  of  them,  even  at  the  time  she  was  with- 
out house  or  home.  He,  most  assuredly,  had  it  often 
in  his  power  to  have  been  of  essential  service  to  her, 
but  he  left  his  fabrics  generally  in  such  a  state,  as  to 
make  it  impossible  for  her  to  get  a  comfortable  footing 
in  them  ;  for  truly  he  had  more  pleasure  in  seeing  the 
walls  decorated  by  trumpery  and  trifles,  just  like  a 
Christmas  pie,  than  by  any  of  her  tasty  performances. 
He,  likewise,  too  much  adopted  the  vulgar  opinion, 
that  she  was  a  dirty  slut,  and  that  she  daubed  the 
walls  and  played  the  deuce  in  house  or  church,  if  she 
once  got  possession  of  it. 

To  this  brother,  however,  she  had  now  recourse, 
and  he  graciously  deigned  to  recognize  her,  and 
promised  to  assist  her  ;  a  magnificent  idea  had  struck 
her  mind,  as  a  means  to  propagate  her  art,  and  by 
making  it  familiar  to  the  multitude,  increase  its  influ- 
ence to  the  good  of  society.  Accordingly  she  formed 
a  resolution  to  put  her  project  in  practice,  whenever 
she  should  be  so  lucky  as  to  procure  some  small  aid 
to  forward  her  scheme.  This,  fortunately  for  her,  her 


gt  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

brother  was  able  and  willing  to  lend  her,  and  she  im- 
mediately set  about  it.  With  some  trouble  she  col- 
lected together  as  many  of  iier  works  as  she  was  able, 
and  by  this  means  produced  a  very  splended  assem- 
blage. 

Here  it  was  that  her  brother  lent  his  assistance, 
providing  her  with  rooms  for  her  purpose,  gratis — to 
be  sure  the  apartments  were  not  very  commodious, 
for  the  best  of  them  was  at  the  summit  of  eighty  stairs, 
all  which  you  were  obliged  to  clamber  up,  in  order  to 
see  this  display  which  she  publicly  exhibited;  and  as 
the  price  of  admittance  was  but  small,  and  the  amuse- 
ment to  the  eye  was  great,  it  was  soon  visited  by  every 
rank  of  society,  where  curiosity  and  idleness  had  in- 
fluence, and  the  profits  were  more  considerable  than 
she  had  expected.  Also  to  give  an  air  of  importance 
to  her  sliow,  and  render  it  in  some  degree  unlike  a  low 
or  vulgar  thing,  she  had  so  contrived  it,  poor  soul !  as 
to  get  a  couple  of  real  centinels  to  be  at  the  entrance, 
with  muskets  on  their  shoulders,  who  marched  to  and 
fro  before  the  door-way,  and  I  confess  it  had  a  very 
grand  eflfect. 

But  now  comes  the  wonder  of  virtue,  as  seen  in  her 
conduct,  in  which  instance  the  truly  noble  and  ele- 
vated turn  of  her  character  is  displayed  most  clearly, 
and  with  a  degree  of  patriotic  benevolence,  that  has 
no  parallel,  perhaps,  in  the  world. 

For  she  had  resolved  from  the  beginning  of  this 
project,  not  to  apply  one  farthing  of  what  was  to  be 
gained  by  it  to  her  own  private  use,  but,  with  the 
larger  portion  of  the  accumulated  profits,  to  found  and 
maintain  a  public  free  school,  for  the  education  of 
youth  in  the  knowledge  of  all  matters  of  taste,  with 
the  hope  thereby  to  inspire  a  love  of  intellectual  re- 
finement in  the  nation,  and  also  to  give  a  splendour 
to  it  in  tiie  eyes  of  other  countries  ;  with  the  remain- 
ing portion  of  profit  to  form  a  fund  of  charity,  by 
which  she  might  afford  relief  and  comfort  to  certain 
poor  wretches,  who  had  dej)ended  on  her,  but  who, 
from  various  misfortunes,  were  in  a  worse  plight  than 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  g^ 

herself.  But  her  weakness  did  not  stop  here ;  for,  like 
a  fabled  heroine  in  romance,  she  panted  for  glory, 
and  has  frequently  been  known  to  have  actually  given 
medals  of  gold  and  silver,  as  a  reward  and  encourage- 
ment to  youths  of  distinguished  merit,  and  also  sums 
of  money  out  of  her  fund  of  shillings,  to  send  them  for 
improvement  to  her  native  country;  when  at  the  very 
time  she  has  wanted  bread  herself.  For  so  inviolable 
were  her  notions  of  honor,  that  nothing  would  tempt 
her,  in  her  greatest  wants,  to  touch  a  farthing  of  thi-s 
fund,  which  to  her  mind  was  become  a  sacred  matter, 
consecrated  to  the  most  benevolent  purposes. 

But  this  her  munificence  appeared  so  very  romantic 
in  the  world's  eyes,  that  very  few  could  comprehend 
it;  therefore,  very  naturally  they  accounted  for  her 
seeming  strange  conduct,  every  one  according  to  his 
own  notions :  some  did  not  believe  it  to  be  at  her  own 
cost,  but  thought  she  was  assisted  by  a  higher  power; 
others  concluded  that  her  intellects  were  a  little  in 
disorder ;  while  many  contented  themselves  by  more 
mildly  considering  her  only  as  a  fool;  but  not  one 
attributed  to  her  any  virtue  in  her  motives. 

Surely  it  must  be  confessed,  tliat  if  she  was  mad, 
she  shewed  method  in  her  madness,  and  appeared  to 
act  even  with  some  policy.  Thus  she  contrived  to 
give  annually  out  of  her  gains  a  public  festival,  to 
which  she  took  care  to  invite  all  those  persons  who, 
from  their  rank  in  life,  bore  the  highest  sway,  and  all 
those  of  intellect,  who  had  the  higiiest  fame  in  the 
kingdom;  trusting  to  have  kindled  a  ilame  in  them, 
and  to  have  gained  their  interest.  They  all  came, 
they  all  saw — were  amused — some  even  admired — 
but  all  were  silent;  not  one  shewed  any  inclination 
towards  being  on  terms  of  closer  friendship  with  her, 
or  dared  to  touch  her  without  having  gloves  on,  for 
fear  of  shaking  hands  wilh  a  lunatic. 

I  must  here  also  observe  that,  in  aid  of  her  school, 
it  was  her  earnest  desire  to  annex  a  little  library  to  it, 
to  be  composed  of  such  books.  &:c.,  as  should  be  most 
useful  and  necessary  to  advance  the  knowledge  and 


8].  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

studies  of  her  scholars :  and  therefore  from  time  to 
time,  as  her  little  income  would  allow,  she  would 
purchase  some  trifles,  which,  together  with  now  and 
then  a  donation  of  gratitude  from  her  pupils,  was  all 
she  could  procure,  and  a  most  scanty  affair  it  was,  for 
no  hand  of  power  or  of  plenty  would  ever  deign  to 
help  her,  or  offer  to  furnish  her  empty  shelves ;  and 
she  had  no  other  consolation,  than  that  which  is  al- 
ways the  reward  of  the  virtuous  and  independent — 
the  reflection  that,  if  it  was  poor  and  scanty,  it  was 
free  from  obligation,  for  it  was  all  her  own.  However, 
her  shillings  came  in  to  help  her  out  in  her  splendid 
scheme,  and  the  youths  of  her  school  increased  in  their 
acquirements ;  and,  although  her  own  interests  made 
no  progress,  yet  her  vanity  was  plumed  in  contem- 
plating the  supposed  effects  of  the  knowledge  she  had 
diffused,  and  the  benefits  to  society  derived  from  that 
school,  of  which  she  was  the  sole  support;  congratu- 
lating herself  on  having  done  that,  unassisted  and 
alone,  which  in  all  other  polished  countries  might 
have  called  forth  the  fostering  hand  of  governments. 

One  priviledge  also  the  world  allowed  to  her  with- 
out a  question,  to  wit ;  none  could  dare  presume  to  be 
considered  or  received  as  persons  of  taste  and  critics, 
if  she  had  not  first  invited  them  to  her  festival;  and  it 
was  therefore  solely  on  that  account  as  much  sought 
after,  as  if  it  had  been  a  court  honor,  or,  as  if  by  it 
such  persons  had  been  dubbed  connoisseurs,  and  ac- 
quired a  title,  which  it  lay  exclusively  in  her  power  to 
confer. 

A  mischievous  intimate  of  hers,  who  envied  the 
great  pleasure,  which  she  seemed  to  enjoy  from  this 
new  scheme,  and  desirous  to  mortify  her  pride  and 
vanity,  thus  addressed  her;  "  My  dear  inconsiderate 
friend,  what  has  been  your  chief  motive  to  found  this 
school,  of  which  you  are  so  fond?  Is  it  that  you  are 
not  content  to  starve  alone,  but  wish  to  become  a 
stalking-horse,  a  decoy-duck  to  entrap  others  in  the 
snare?  like  malignant  nuns,  who  were  ever  striving  to 
get  companions  in  their  misery.   You  but  too  well 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  85 

know  that  the  fate  of  your  scholars  is  similar  to  the 
state  of  those  poor  mortals  who  go  to  law;  where  the 
happy  favourite  of  fortune,  wiien  he  wins  his  cause, 
is  left  in  rags,  and  where  he  that  fails  is  naked.  You 
are  like  the  Cuckoo,  who  produces  her  l)roo(l,  and 
then  can  neither  feed  them,  protect  tiiem,  nor  force  any 
one  to  admire  their  song. — Excuse  me,  but  such  I 
think  to  be  precisely  your  case. 

*^  It  cannot  fail  to  move  a  feeling  heart  with  pity,  to 
contemplate  the  probable  fate  of  those  numerous  can- 
didates for  fame  whom  you  create,  for  you  prove  in 
your  own  sad  example,  that  great  acquirement  does 
not  create  or  insure  great  employment.  After  your 
scholars  have,  by  indefatigable  industry,  gained  every 
possible  improvement  which  education  can  bestow, 
and  amply  qualified  themselves  for  the  execution  of 
works  of  the  highest  order,  pray  inform  me,  if  you 
can,  who  is  it  that  will  call  at  their  warehouse  to 
purchase  their  sublimity,  or  where  in  tlie  name  of 
wonder,  can  it  be  placed,  when  it  is  accomplished? 

"  It  brings  to  my  recollection  an  anecdote  told  of  a 
poet,  who,  being  advised  by  a  minister  of  state  to 
learn  the  Spanish  language,  had  raised  his  expecta- 
tions with  golden  dreams,  (as  many  of  your  scholars 
may  no  doubt,)  to  the  highest  pitch  which  fancy  could 
create,  of  what  might  be  the  happy  result  of  this  ac- 
quisition; and  he  therelbre  immediately  set  about  the 
task  witii  a  tumult  of  delight,  and  accordingly  by  time 
and  attention  made  himself  master  of  the  laborious 
undertaking;  when,  going  again  to  his  seeming  patron, 
filled  withjo}"^  at  the  hope  of  reward,  he  informed  the 
minister,  that  he  was  now  become  a  master  of  tiie 
Spanish  tongue — '  Well  done!'  said  the  great  man 
'  then  you  have  now  the  felicity  of  being  enabled  to 
read  Don  Quixotte  in  the  original.' 

•^^  In  short,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  beginning 
at  the  wrong  end;  all  your  schemes  might  do  very 
well  in  kingdoms,  where  the  high  art  is  known  and 
cherished;  but  situated  as  you  now  are,  your  conduct 

3  I 


m  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

is  as  absurd,  as  if  a  niercliant,  on  a  speculation  of  gain, 
was  to  attempt  to  introduce  a  manufactory  for  parasols 
in  Lapland  or  in  Nova  Zerabla." 


CHAPTER  III. 

Hnic  the  Beauty  became  Jcnewn  to  a  good  Maiiy  and 
how  much  Good  he  did  for  her.  How  she  lost  hinif 
and  had  a  Patron  in  his  stead. 

About  this  time  a  moment  of  good  fortune  attended 
our  lieroinc,  by  what  means  I  know  not,  or  by  what 
lucky  chance  a  thing  so  strange  to  her  could  happen, 
but  she  was  introduced  to  a  man  eminent  for  his  well 
known  benevolence  of  character ;  one  of  the  elders  of 
the  city.  He  was  a  man  of  great  discernment,  liberali- 
ty of  mind,  and  fine  taste,  and  who,  from  the  first  hour 
he  saw  her,  admired  the  many  excellencies  which  she 
possessed.  Although  so  much  obscured  by  her  pover- 
ty, depression,  and  ill  health,  yet  he  was  soon  able  to 
estimate  the  value  of  all  those  perfections,  for  which 
she  had  been  so  much  distinguished,  when  in  her 
native  country.  He  never  failed  to  pay  her  unceasing 
attention,  and  she,  in  return,  had  a  greater  veneration, 
esteem,  and  true  love  for  him,  than  for  any  one  person 
she  had  ever  met  witli,  from  the  time  she  first  quitted 
her  father's  dominions.  It  was  his  chance  to  become  a 
chief  magistrate,  when  he  endeavoured,  by  every 
effort  in  his  power,  to  introduce  her  to  the  highest 
personages  in  his  district.  But  in  this  attempt  he 
failed.  Those  good  people,  whose  minds  and  habits 
were  formed  by  traffic  and  industry,  were  not  prepared 
to  relish  the  refinements  which  are  the  produce  of 
genius  and  of  taste;  and  she  was  not  cordially  re- 
ceived in  that  quarter,  nor  ever  able  to  inspire  the 
inhabitants  with  the  least  perception  of  her  eminent 
perfections  of  grace,  beauty,  or  virtue,  although  at  the 
same  time  they  paid  great  attention  to  her  fat  sister. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  8;^ 

However,  her  friend  still  persisted  in  his  attachment, 
and  often  invited  her  to  his  dinners  and  his  halls,  and 
paid  her  such  court,  that  it  quite  revived  her  almost 
broken  spirits.  She  now  began  to  look  cheerlul,  and 
really  was  inclined  to  think,  that  her  former  days  of 
happiness  were  returning,  and  she  daily  blessed  his 
name.  He,  on  his  part,  erected  a  magnificent  temple, 
which  he  dedicated  to  her,  and  to  the  most  illustrious 
poet  of  this  country,  and  thus  united  their  names  to- 
gether with  his  own. 

For  a  short  period  during  the  life  of  this  good  man, 
she  became  an  object  of  attention  and  of  some  degree 
of  consideration,  for  at  last  he  prevailed  on  others  to 
admire  her  nearly  as  much  as  he  did  himself. 

But  alas!  as  all  things  under  the  sun  must  have  an 
end,  so  likewise  ceased  this  trausitor^'^  ray  of  light. 
He  died — the  temple  raised  to  her  and  the  greatest 
poet,  became  a  ruin !  Its  relics  were  scattered,  and 
she  was  again  forgot.  Even  the  very  place,  where 
once  this  temple  stood,  could  scarcely  be  known. 
But  still,  as  if  unable  to  quit  the  revered  spot,  once,jso 
precious  to  her,  our  heroine  would  sit  a  mournful 
spectacle  amidst  the  desolation,  like  fallen  Marius  ou 
the  ruins  of  Carthage.  Her  good  genius  seemed  yet 
to  hover  over  the  place,  and  animate  its  very  dust;  for 
it  appeared  to  make  a  dying  eifort  to  revive,  as  if  loth 
to  lose  its  former  elevated  office,  and  at  last  she  had 
the  heart-felt  joy  to  see  a  little  kind  of  vapour  arise 
and  fix  itself  upon  the  very  spot;  for  not  long  after  the 
death  of  her  patron,  the  fabric  was  by  some  benevolent 
persons  appropriated  to  a  kind  of  free-school  and 
sale-room  for  the  use  and  encouragement  of  juvenile 
attempts,  which  both  gratified  and  flattered  her,  tlie 
more  as  it  was  a  kind  of  appendage  to  the  school  of 
her  own  foundation. 

She  flattered  herself  that  she  saw  a  gleam  of  good 
in  the  project,  and  this  thought  she  fondly  encouraged, 
as  some  forlorn  maiden,  whose  lover  has  forsaken  her, 
muses  over  her  empty  tea  cup,  and  shakes  the  grounds 
remaining  at  the  bottom  :  and  fain  would,  if  possible, 


88  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

discover  some  good,  some  blessed  chance  in  the  stoves 
of  fortune  vet  to  come  for  her. 

I  have  often  lieard  her  express  her  candid  opinion 
upon  the  subject,  as  1  knew  it  was  her  desire  ever  to 
assist  even  the  weakest  efforts.  "  This  laudable  little 
scheme,"  she  would  say,  •''  although  as  yet  but  in  a 
small  way,  maybe  productive  of  something  better; 
that  which  begins  in  being  addressed  to  children,  may 
end  in  becoming  an  object  to  men:  the  end  desired  by 
it  is  truly  praiseworthy,  although  the  means  be  feeble. 
There  is,  however,  one  part  which,  I  must  confess, 
gives  me  some  pain — I  am  sorry  that  we  cannot  conceal 
this  project  from  the  scornful  eyes  of  supercilious 
nations,  who  affect,  with  haughty  arrogance,  to  de- 
spise the  country  of  Boutiquiers. 

"  All  those,  instead  of  casting  a  look  of  kindness 
tow^ards  our  virtuous  struggles  to  raise  the  art,  instead 
of  viewing  our  innocent  modes  and  contrivances  to 
produce  a  traffic  in  it,  with  that  feeling  of  compassion 
which  would  be  the  greatest  ornament  of  their  hearts, 
w'ill  only  triumph  over  the  puny  attempts;  and  will 
be  too  apt  to  disregard  the  native  beauty  of  the  help- 
less infant,  while  they  are  absorbed  in  contemplating 
the  poverty  of  its  nurse.  But  let  us  take  courage  and 
rely  on  hope :  although  it  may  excite  the  insipid  jests 
of  foreigners,  when  they  behold  our  little  shop  of 
cheap  articles  in  national  art,  still  let  no  one  be  dis- 
mayed; for  it  is  ever  to  be  remembered  that  the  first 
great  maxim  of  virtue  is  to  bid  defiance  to  the  laugh  of 
fools,  and  it  has  been  proved  by  experience  that  the 
most  consequential  establishments  have  gradually 
risen  from  the  humblest,  and  lowest  origin.  We 
should  consider  also,  that  we  are  in  a  trading  country, 
and  therefore  it  is  impossible  to  devise  a  better  mode 
to  suit  the  habits  of  the  natives,  in  order  to  answer  the 
end  proposed.  We  must  be  content  ^  to  creep  before 
we  can  go:'  it  is  the  lot  of  human  nature;  and  as  it 
has  been  to  trade  alone  that  I  am  indebted  for  my 
existence  in  this  land,  therefore  to  trade  alone  I  now 
pay  my  homage. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  89 

^^  The  project,"  she  continued,  "  is  excellent:  it 
increases  the  means  of  discovering  all  those  children 
who  have  a  genius  for  the  art;  by  alluring  youths  into 
the  practice  of  it,  you  gain  a  fair  opportunity  of  dis- 
cerning their  different  degrees  of  talent ;  as  numbers 
will  rush  to  enter  under  the  standard  of  fame,  some 
from  ambition,  and  many  more  from  idleness;  thus 
you  will  be  enabled  to  separate  and  select  the  best 
from  among  the  multitude,  and  the  rest  may  serve  to 
recruit  the  army,  become  soldiers,  and  seek  glory 
under  another  banner/'  Then  with  a  modest  smile 
by  way  of  an  apology  for  what  she  was  about  to  add, 
"  To  illustrate,''  said  she,  "  my  apprehension  of  this 
subject,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  make  a  vulgar 
simile,  being  the  first  that  offers.  It  is  like  the  con- 
duct of  a  good  cook,  or  caterer  in  another  department 
of  taste,  who,  when  she  wants  to  furnish  a  dish  of 
delicious  green  peas,  first  procures  a  great  quantity  of 
pods,  out  of  which  she  culls  those  only  which  are 
most  delicate  and  fit  for  her  purpose,  and  the  large 
remainder  may  be  disposed  of,  no  matter  how  i"*' — 
*^  given  ,"  I  added,  "  as  food  for  hogs,  made  into 
soup- meagre,  or  left  to  be  carried  off  in  a  beggar's 
wallet." 

Our  Beauty,  as  I  before  observed,  having  now  lost 
her  late  great  friend  and  benefactor,  and  seeing  no  help 
within  her  reach,  sunk  again  into  despondency,  reflect- 
ing with  sorrow,  that  all  her  days  of  joy  were  buried 
in  his  grave,  and  gone  forever.  In  melancholy  musing 
she  cherished  his  memory,  and  kept  alive  the  grateful 
sense  of  his  friendship,  never  mentioning  his  name 
without  tears:  often  saying,  that  he  had  done  her 
more  real  service  than  the  wliole  kingdom  besides  put 
together;  that  he  was  the  just  medium  of  prudence 
united  with  benevolence ;  that  he  only  seemed  to  pre- 
serve himself  in  order  to  prolong  a  general  blessing  to 
society ;  that  he  had  assisted  her  even  to  his  own  hurt ; 
and  always  calling  him  her  true  and  her  only 
Maecenas.  Here,  even  Hope,  the  God  of  the  wretch- 
ed, forsook  her:  in  her  retired  garret,  (which,  though 


90  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

she  at  all  times  preferred  a  sky-light,  was  now  but  a 
wretched  habitation,)  she  moaned  away  her  fading 
beauties. 

As  she  was  one  morning  ruminating  on  lier  deserted 
state,  she  heard  a  tapping  at  her  ciiamber  door,  and, 
on  opening  it,  there  came  in  a  polite  and  travelled 
gentleman,  who,  after  paying  his  compliments  to  her, 
told  her  that  he  had  heard  of  her  fame  and  of  her 
wants. — That  it  had  ever  been  his  wish  to  be  the 
patron  of  elegant  studies  and  neglected  merit. — That 
he  had  been  informed  of  the  depressed  state  in  which 
she  had  been  left  to  pine  in  secret,  but  that  she  should 
have  no  cause  again  to  complain,  for  he  was  deter- 
mined to  give  her  an  opportunity  of  exertion,  by 
which  the  world  should  be  convinced  of  her  worth, 
and  acknowledge  her  rights;  "  and  I,"  said  he, 
"  shall  have  the  credit,  as  my  reward,  of  having  been 
your  first  patron  in  this  region,  and  the  first  means  of 
giving  you  to  the  country.  Another  great  advantage 
you  will  have;  I  shall  also  help  you  much  in  the 
course  of  the  work  by  ray  advice  occasionally,  in 
matters  in  which  you  may  be  incompetent;  as  I  con- 
clude you  must  allow  that  an  amateur  is  more  capable 
to  give  directions,  from  his  liberal  education,  general 
knowledge,  and  freedom  from  those  particular  pre- 
judices, which  are  so  apt  to  govern  the  fettered  mind 
of  the  mere  professor,  who  chiefly  attends  to  the  ex- 
ecution of  the  hand  alone. — For  I  must  inform  you, 
that  I  have  made  the  complete  tour  of  the  continent, 
have  crossed  the  Alps  of  Italy  and  Switzerland,  seen 
all  the  varieties  of  landscape  scenery,  and  most  ac- 
curately ascertained  by  measurement  the  just  propor- 
tions of  all  the  famous  antique  statues.  I  have  viewed 
with  optic  glasses  the  minutest  touch  of  every  cele- 
brated picture,  and  have  acquainted  myself  with  all 
the  preparations  on  which  they  were  worked,  and  the 
process  in  working.  I  have  investigated  the  various 
merits  of  the  different  schools,  have  been  absorbed  in 
the  sublimity  of  Michael  Angelo,  have  admired  the 
grace  of  Correggio,  been  captivated  with  the  sweet-. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  gi 

ness  and  air  of  Guido,  the  firm  line  of  Caracci,  the 
force  of  character  and  expression  in  JRaffaelle, — and 
have  analysed  the  colouring  of  Titian  and  the  Vene- 
tian school :  so  that  you  see  1  am  not  a  bad  helper  for 
you.  You  must  do  a  great  work  for  me ;  I  am  im- 
patient till  we  begin,  tiiat  I  may  quickly  shew  the 
world  a  production  that  shall  astonish ;  for  by  our 
combined  force,  we  shall,  no  doubt,  produce  a  per- 
fect work. — The  subject  which  I  have  selected,  is 
from  those  fine  lines  of  our  poet  Milton — 

— "  Riding  on  the  air  she  comes, 
Lur'd  with  the  smell  of  infant  blood,  to  dance 
With  Lapland  witches,  while  the  lab'rinj;  moon 
Eclipses  at  their  charms.'' 

This  harangue  of  connoisscurship  being  ended,  our 
Beauty  soon  set  to  work,  and  her  kind  patron  was 
ever  at  her  elbow — inded  whatever  she  did  on  it  when 
he  was  not  present,  was  but  lost  labour,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  put  it  out  again  when  he  came,  as  it  was 
all  wrong. 

In  the  commencement  of  the  business,  she  had 
taken  the  liberty  to  object  to  certain  parts  of  the  sub- 
ject given,  as  not  adapted  to  her  powers  of  representa- 
tion, and  therefore  in  these  points  unfit  for  her  pur- 
pose, although  infinitely  to  be  admired  in  the  poet: 
such,  for  instance,  as  its  being  impossible  by  any 
means  in  her  power  to  specify  that  this  demon 
smelt  infant  blood,  or  that  tlie  moon  laboured  while 
the  witches  danced,  (both  of  whicli  were  exquisite 
thoughts  in  the  poet ;)  but  to  those  objections  he 
would  not  listen,  but  told  her,  "  that,  by  following 
his  directions,  she  would  give  such  an  expression  to 
the  figure,  that  all  should  soon  perceive  it  was  infant 
blood  which  was  smelt;  and  as  to  the  moon,  I  shall 
shew  you,"  said  he,  "  how  to  make  her  labour,  I 
warrant  you." 

Thus  then  to  work  they  went ;  he  delighted  to  have 
the  effusions  of  his  own  mind  displayed,  and  she,  from 


93  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

necessity,  humbly  submitting  to  every  direction,  till  at 
last  the  work  was  completed,  and  they  both  sat  down 
before  it,  and  surveyed  it  with  very  different  sensa- 
tions. He  saw  with  rapture  a  thing  so  consistent  with 
his  ideas ;  she  saw  it  with  disgust  and  dismay,  as  be- 
ing so  unlike  to  her  own. 

'•  Now,''  said  he,  "  we  shall  astound  the  world, 
and  I  shall  have  the  happiness  and  the  glory  of 
making  your  fortune  at  once :"  she  forced  a  smile  from 
civility,  but  thought  herself  too  deeply  concerned  in 
the  event  to  smile  from  pleasure,  for  the  thing  looked 
to  her  like  the  jacket  of  harlequin. — As  this  erudite 
article  was  to  produce  a  great  effect  at  once  on  the 
pul>lic,  it  had  been  carefully  concealed  in  its  progress 
from  all  but  themselves,  when  at  last,  after  the  patron 
had  sufficiently  glutted  himself  on  the  curious  pro- 
duction, it  was  put  forth  for  all  beholders. 

First  came  the  patron  and  all  his  dependants ;  those 
all  agreed  in  admiring  it.  Then  the  circle  was  in- 
creased, and  those  who  were  indifferent  to  both  pat- 
ron and  performer,  came  and  found  fault:  then  came 
judges,  some  of  whom  despised  it,  and  others  laughed ; 
when  presently  tlie  matter  was  treated  with  scorn  and 
contempt,  universally  condemned  as  not  worth  one 
farthing,  or  fit  to  be  seen  in  any  place. — The  patron 
now  took  the  alarm ;  he  declared  that  he  only  cm- 
ployed  our  unfortunate  as  an  act  of  charity;  that  he 
always  thought  her  a  very  dull  creature,  without  the 
least  genius,  and  soon  afterwards  denied  that  he  had 
ever  beheld  her,  nor  would  he  ever  speak  to  her  when 
by  accident  he  saw  her  in  public,  and  from  that  time 
paid  all  his  attention  to  those  works  which  he  be- 
lieved had  been  the  labours  of  her  grandmother. — 
Thus  she  unfortunately  lost  at  once  both  patron  and 
credit. — We  see  proved  in  this  experiment  that  the 
highest  powers  when  under  the  guidance  of  ignorance, 
become  ridiculous,  as  under  that  of  vice  they  would 
become  detestable. 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  93 


CHAPTER  IV. 

How  the  Beauty  goes  in  search  of  fresh  Patronage 
and  gains  only  fresh  Mortification. 

There  still  remained  a  source  of  most  eminent 
protection,  yet  unsolicited,  for  our  unfortunate  Beauty, 
the  whicii,  if  once  gained,  would  be  as  perpetual  as  it 
was  powerful :  but  this  sun  of  patronage  she  knew 
not  how  to  invoke  nor  even  to  approach,  as  the  diffi- 
culties of  access  to  it  were  innumerable :  her  jolly  sister 
indeed  (as  I  have  often  shown)  had  been  introduced, 
and  had  felt  the  benefit  of  its  influence;  but  our  Beau- 
ty's calamities  had  rendered  her  timorous,  and  she 
scarcely  dared  to  hope  that  she  sliould  ever  be  favour- 
ed with  its  vivifying  warmth  ;  though,  could  she  lucki- 
ly have  so  placed  herself  as  to  have  once  caught  even 
the  smallest  beam  of  its  radiance^  it  would  fully  have 
satisfied  the  utmost  wishes  of  her  heart. 

This  vast  and  dignified  source  of  earthl}'^  good, 
which  she  had  in  mind,  was  no  less  than  the  supreme 
power  of  the  state,  and  she  had  thought  of  an  appli- 
cation to  the  prime  organ  of  its  administration,  as  the 
means  most  proper  to  eflFect  her  purpose  :  yet,  when, 
she  reflected  on  the  high  authority  which  she  was 
about  to  address,  she  trembled  at  her  own  prcsump- 
tion,  and  her  heart  failed  her,  as  well  it  might,  con- 
sidering the  insignificant  figure  she  must  make  in  the 
presence  of  the  great,  thus  unconnected  and  unsup- 
ported. Sometime  she  parleyed  with  herself  of  what 
was  best  to  be  done  :  when,  recollecting  (and  without 
much  knowledge  of  the  world  either)  that  if  she  did 
not  endeavour  to  help  herself,  nobody  was  very  like- 
ly to  ofl\jr  their  services  to  help  her,  and  that  it  was  a 
duty  incumbent  upon  her,  to  leave  no  proper  attempt 
unassayed,  however  improbable  the  chance  of  success, 
she  therefore  determined  to  make  this  last  trial  towards 
an  establishment  for  herself  in  this  country. 


91.  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

The  way  had  been  made  a  little  more  easy  to  her 
by  a  friend,  who  liad  intimated  to  the  Premier,  that  a 
person  would  request  the  favour  of  an  audience  of  him, 
w  ho  liad  some  pretensions  to  be  heard. 

With  throbbing  heart,  she  ventured  forth  on  this 
forlorn  hope,  and  soon  arrived  at  tlie  palace  of  the 
prime  dispenser  of  favours,  where,  after  remaining  in 
an  antichamber  a  time  fully  sufficient  to  recollect  her- 
self of  all  her  claims  to  the  attention  of  a  State,  she 
was  at  last  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  prime  min- 
ister of  its  good,  and  was  received  with  all  that  court- 
ly aiFability  which  marks  tiie  manners  of  the  great  : 
after  which,  little  time  was  spent  before  the  cotivcrsa- 
tion  turned  on  business. 

**  Pray,  Madam,  to  what  lucky  circumstance  is  it 
owing,  that  I  have  the  pleasure  of  this  visit  from  you, 
a  perfect  stranger  to  me  ?" 

"  I  came,  Sir,  to  implore  the  assistance  of  the  State 
in  my  behalf.'' 

*'  A  bad  beginning,  Madam ;  assistance  is  just 
what  we  want  ourselves,  not  to  bestow  it  on  others. 
But  on  what  grounds  do  you  found  your  claims  to  our 
attention  ?  have  you  any  important  disclosures  to 
make,  from  which  the  State  may  reap  advantage  ?" 

^*  My  own  opinion  is,  that  society  would  reap  much 
advantage  from  my  services.'" 

"  By  whom  are  you  recommended  ?  are  you  pow- 
erfully supported  ?" 

"  I  have  no  supporters.  Sir." 

*^  What  does  nobody  espouse  your  cause,  or  enforce 
your  demands  ?" 

"  No  mortal !" 

'^  Are  you  an  orator  then  ?  have  you  the  powers  of 
eloquence  and  persuasion  ?" 

"  In  my  own  way,  I  think  I  have,  and  that  in  glow- 
ing colours.'*' 

"  In  glowing  colours,  did  you  say  ?  can  you  make 
black  appear  white? 

"  No  !  that  is  beyond  my  powers." 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  95 

^^  What  are  your  powers?  have  you  acquired  learn- 
ing, or  have  you  the  art  of  a  logician?  can  you,  with 
ingenious  arguments,  vindicate  those  disastrous  ac- 
cidents, which,  hut  too  often,  intercept  the  course  of 
the  wisest  conduct ;  or  can  you  stop  the  watcliful  en- 
emies of  our  proceedings,  by  your  sophistry  ?  If  so,  1 
can  listen  to  your  suit.  Even  without  those  high  claims 
to  attention,  if  you  had  been  favoured  by  the  protec- 
tion of  some  powerful  individual,  had  your  cause  been 
backed  by  a  party,  or  came  you  recommended  to  our 
notice  by  a  county,  or  had  gained  tlie  patronage  of  a 
borough,  even  the  most  pitiful  one  in  the  king(h)m,  it 
would  have  given  both  force  and  dignity  to  your  pe- 
tition ;  but  as  it  stands  at  present,  I  know  neitlier  you, 
nor  from  whence  you  came,  and  your  application  for 
favour  appears  absurd,  if  you  cannot  do  us  some  ser- 
vice. What  do  you  profess  ?" 

"  To  study  nature,  cultivate  taste :  to  investigate 
and  represent  to  others  the  graces  of  tlie  mind  as  well 
as  those  of  the  body,  and  to  teach,  or  rather  inculcate, 
morality.'' 

"Alas!  I  admire  your  simplicity;  but  must  ob- 
serve to  you,  that  whatever  other  endowments  you 
may  possess,  you  seem  not  to  be  much  the  politician. 
Pray,  I  ask  you,  what  are  those  magic  charms  of  the 
taste  and  graces  ?  What  have  taste  and  the  graces 
done  for  government,  or  for  its  ministers,  to  cause  me 
to  become  their  advocate  ?  can  taste  and  the  graces 
make  soldiers,  and  recruit  the  army  for  foreign  ser- 
vice ?  can  they  procure  a  majority  for  me  in  the 
House  ?  can  they  enable  me  to  reward,  with  bounte- 
ous gratitude,  my  host  of  faithful  friends  ;  or  guard 
me  safely  in  the  hour  of  danger,  from  the  assaults  of 
my  enemies  ?" 

"  It  appears  singular  that  you  should  apply  here 
for  aid.  The  chief  objects  of  your  study  we  have 
nothing  to  do  with,  neither  is  there  any  office  under 
the  state  to  recognize  them ;  if  any  where,  they  seem 
to  belong  to  the  church — you  should  make  your  ap- 
plication there.-' 


96  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

^^  That,  Sir,  I  have  done,  and  was  repulsed  with 
scorn,  as  an  idler,  if  not  considered  as  mischievous.'' 

*'  I  must  conclude  you  received  a  proper  answer: 
apply,  then,  to  the  monied  interest;  there  you  cannot 
fail  of  being  supported,  if  your  projects  are  prolitahle." 

"  TJiis  1  have  done  also,  with  as  little  success  ^ 
perhaps  because  I  could  not  explain  myself  so  as  to 
be  understoo<l :  I  was  to  them  an  unheard-of  and  in- 
comprehensible stranger." 

^'  If,  then,  you  have  been  scorned  and  rejected  by 
those  to  whose  power  and  importance  we  are  so  large- 
ly indebted  for  our  own,  it  is  mere  folly  to  come  to  me 
with  your  complaint,  and  I  confess  you  disappoint  me. 
I  had  been  informed  that  you  had  resided  in  other 
kingdoms,  and  therefore  conceived  some  opinion  of 
your  abilities.  1  expected  you  could  have  given  in- 
formation concerning  those  countries  you  had  visited; 
of  their  general  condition ;  also  as  to  the  force  or 
■weakness  of  our  enemies;  or  otherwise,  that  your 
genius  hacLdirected  your  studies  towards  those  things 
which  might  have  rendered  you  useful  to  the  ordnance 
department  ;  or  that  you  possessed  that  kind  of 
knowledge  which  would  have  helped  the  financier: 
but  it  seems,  all  that  you  can  teach  belongs  to  the 
schools  only,  men  of  the  world  have  otlier  knowledge 
to  employ  their  thoughts.  Is  it  possible  you  can  be 
in  that  state  of  ignorance,  to  imagine  that,  at  the  time 
our  attention  is  so  awfully  employed  in  procuring, 
with  ditliculty,  the  various  means  to  defend  ourselves 
and  the  nation  from  foreign  and  domestic  foes,  and 
contriving  to  raise  revenues  that  must  be  grasped,  and 
fri(  nds  that  must  be  bought,  to  support  our  power, 
can  you,  I  say,  suppose,  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  that 
calm  leisure  to  survey,  from  an  easy  chair,  the  gentle 
progress  of  Taste  and  the  Graces?  Such  governors 
would  be  fit  companions  for  the  man  who  could  sit 
playing  soft  music  on  a  fiddle  M'hen  his  house  was  on 
lire.  I  do  not  conceive  how  any  of  your  acquirements 
can  be  turned,  so  as  to  serve  our  purpose.  You  seem 
to  possess  no  talents  that  we  can  make  use  of;  and  no 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  97 

intentions  which  we  can  notice :  I  know  of  no  means 
of  employing  you,  unless  it  be  as  a  spy,  which  office 
your  capacity  would  enable  you  to  execute  with  ad- 
vantage ;  but  of  such  we  are  surrounded  by  crowds. 
My  good  lady,  you  see  I  cannot  help  you ;  1  am  sorry 
fqr  your  situation,  but  my  scrupulous  conscience  will 
not  permit  my  wasting  any  of  the  public's  money  on 
you,  as  it  appears  you  can  be  of  no  service  to  the  state ; 
besides,  the  populace  would  reflect  upon  me  as  a  bad 
economist  of  the  nation's  sacred  treasures.  You  will 
excuse  me,  as  my  time  and  attention  are  wholly  oc- 
cupied on  matters  which  I  perceive  to  be  far  above 
your  comprehension,  and  totally  foreign  to  your  aims, 
therefore  any  longer  conference  is  only  to  waste  your 
time  as  well  as  my  own." 

Just  at  this  instant  the  minister  was  informed  that 
certain  important  persons  from  the  city  desired  to  have 
a  few  minutes  communication  with  him,  when  instant- 
ly he  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  left  our  Beauty  to  the 
contemplation  of  her  own  thoughts.  Thus  she  re- 
mained a  considerable  time  with  more  patience  than 
hope,  unwilling  to  quit  the  place  in  despair,  whilst 
possibly  the  great  man  might  return,  and  lend  a  more 
favourable  ear  to  her  petition.  "  I  wish  to  cherish  ex- 
pectations of  good,"  said  she,  ^'  and  will  wait  the 
awful  event  of  my  fate."  She  sunk  down  in  a  chair, 
and  her  spirits  failed  her,  when  she  muttered  to  her- 
self the  following  soliloquy. 

"  I  cannot  flatter  myself  with  hope,"  said  she ;  '^  I 
have  no  attractions  to  gain  a  credit  here ;  for  we  are  to 
recollect,  that  the  chief  and  proper  end  of  government 
is  not  to  reward  or  even  notice  ingenuity  or  industry^ 
but  to  repress  vice,  therefore  the  whole  business  of 
ministers  is  to  have  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  vicious 
alone,  to  keep  strict  watch  on  the  turbulent,  the  dis- 
contented, and  the  lawless,  as  objects  of  their  severity, 
or  else  so  to  manage  them,  that  they  may  become  as 
sistants  to  their  power;  also  carefully  to  maintain  the 
authority  whereby  to  keep  good  order  and  subjection, 
and  to  bestow  rewards  with  a  liberal  hand  on  those 


98  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

only  who  nre  ready  and  willing  to  assist  or  increase 
tliat  authority  to  any  possible  extent.  To  such,  alone, 
goverments  are  to  he  indulgent.  We  daily  see  the 
effects  of  this  grateful  disposition  of  the  state  hy  the 
vast  fortunes  made,  or  splendid  situations  gained,  by 
those  who  have  promoted,  or  display  an  eagerness  to 
promote,  tliis  great  and  good  end.  But  as  to  ingenuity 
and  industry,  my  only  dower,  they  are  qualities  of  a 
nature  harmless,  peaceful,  and  humble,  being  most 
commonly  the  offspring  of  indigence,  and  the  associ- 
ates of  those  few  only  who  have  neither  time  nor 
desire  to  be  meddling  in  politics ;  therfore  they  create 
no  political  sensations  of  either  love,  hope,  or  fear  in 
the  state.  They  are  so  imperceptible  to  the  eye  of 
power,  that  they  are  overlooked ;  and  was  it  not  for 
their  pecuniary  contributions  to  the  support  of  govern- 
ment, (an  honour  which  is  never  denied  them,)  would 
be  totally  forgotten,  like  a  non-existence." 

In  this  manner  our  Beauty  reasoned  with  herself, 
and  might  have  continued  to  reason  longer,  had  she 
not  been  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
well-dressed  gentleman  into  the  room,  whistling  the 
tune  of  '•^  Hearts  of  Oak,"  who,  when  he  saw  her, 
thus  addressed  her:  '•  It  is  you,  madam,  1  presume, 
who  have  been  soliciting  favour  of  the  minister,  whom 
I  have  just  left.  As  1  suppose  you  are  the  person  he 
mentioned  to  me,  therefore  I  can  inform  you,  that  I 
heard  him  say  that  your  claims  to  favour  from  the 
state  were  very  frivolous,  and  that  no  attention  could 
be  paid  to  such  curious  and  mistaken  notions  of  im- 
portance, as  those  on  which  you  founded  your  pre- 
tensions.  If  you  had  devised  a  new  tax,  or  discovered 
a  means  to  increase  the  force  of  gunpowder,  you 
could  not  have  thought  more  of  yourself,  by  his  ac- 
count; therefore,  tarrying  longer  in  this  place  is  un- 
necessary; you  will  see  no  more  of  him  to-day,  I  can 
assure  you.  His  important  hours  are  perpetually  oc- 
cupied in  matters  from  which  his  country  may  reap 
advantage :  he  is,  indeed,  a  wonderful  man.  I  wish 
you  a  very  good  morning.'" 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  gg 

On  thus  taking  his  leave,  he  quitted  the  room,  not 
much  to  the  surprize  of  our  Beauty,  who  had,  in  her 
own  mind,  anticipated  the  result  of  this  her  dernier 
resort;  and  she  now  remained  one  of  that  little  group 
of  the  blessed;  who  expecting  nothing  can  defy  disap- 
pointment. 


CHAPTEU  V.  AND  LAST. 

Tke  Beauty  receives  a  vast  Treasure  in  wholesome 
Advice;  a  Species  of  Riches  seemingly  much  more 
easy  to  bestow  than  to  use. 

When  she  became  thus  a  prey  to  poverty,  all  her 
acquaintance,  of  course,  thought  themselves  sufficient- 
ly wiser  than  herself,  and  therefore  took  upon  them  to 
admonish  and  direct  her  in  what  she  was  to  do  for  her 
own  good ;  one  tells  her  she  ought  to  put  her  hand  to 
drawing  flowers,  fruit,  shells,  insects ;  another,  to 
paint  fans,  or  else  miniatures  of  the  favorite  play- 
ers in  favorite  characters,  or  of  striking  scenes  in 
favorite  novels  ;  or  to  draw  caricatures  of  public 
characters,  or  describe  the  pastime  of  infants,  or 
any  such  elegant  and  pleasing  matters,  fitted  for  the 
amusement  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  politest 
circles;  and  this,  they  said,  would  be  spending  her 
time  to  some  purpose,  and  cautioned  her  not  to  hold 
her  head  so  high,  with  her  rhodomontade  notions  pro- 
ceeding from  pride  and  impertinence,  as  if  she  thought 
the  world  could  not  turn  round  without  her  lielpiug 
hand; — adding,  that  it  was  intolerable  folly  and  pre 
sumption  in  her  and  nothing  better;  and,  if  persisted 
in,  she  might  be  very  sure  of  being  humbled  according 
to  her  arrogance. — All  this  was  told  her  in  friendly 
plain  English,  for  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  treat  the 
poor  with  ceremony. 

Another  officious  friend,  although  unasked,  would 
still  advise,  saying,  "  Why  not  try  your  luck  in  rural 


100  VARIEIIES  ON  ART. 

and  tender  scenes  purely  sentimental?  Seat  yourself 
at  a  cottage  door,  incline  your  Lead  with  studied  grace, 
and,  with  an  elegant  languor  in  your  eye,  look  as  if 
you  iiad  seen  better  days;  let  a  spinning-wheel  be 
placed  near,  to  itulicate  your  industry,  and  pretty 
poultry  round  you,  to  shew  the  soft  compassion  of 
your  angelic  mind.  Y^ou  may  have  a  straw  hat  upon 
your  head,  lined  with  a  becoming  colour.  This, 
which  you  may  place  a  little  on  one  side  of  your  fore- 
bead,  will  add  wonderfully  to  your  charms,  yet  at  the 
same  time  give  an  air  of  careless  neglect;  or  tie  a 
white  handkerchief  round  your  head  and  under  your 
chin,  for  as  the  poor  have  no  white  handkerchiefs,  it 
will  serve  to  shew  that  you  are  not  one  of  the  vulgar. 

''  Thus  equipped,  you  will  become  a  most  interest- 
ing and  sentimental  figure  of  elegant  distress,  which 
cannot  fail  to  captivate,  with  irresistible  force,  all 
those  who  cannot  make  the  distinction  between  af- 
fectation and  the  real  expression  of  pure  and  beautiful 
nature;  and  as  this  class  is  by  far  the  most  numerous, 
you  will,  of  course,  gain  numerous  friends." 

One  of  her  intimates,  who  was  true  to  her  and  her 
interest,  addressed  her  in  words  to  this  eflfect:  "  My 
dear  and  unfortunate  friend,  your  situation  appears  to 
me  to  be  truly  deplorable,  especially  when  I  consider 
the  modes  of  tlie  country  in  which  you  have  but  too 
much  flattered  yourself  with  hopes  of  success.  1  will 
not  deceive  you  with  false  notions  to  your  utter  ruin, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  like  a  plain  dealer  and  true 
friend,  will  explain  to  you  the  naked  truth  of  your 
lamentable  case ;  which  may  enable  you  with  the  more 
patience  to  receive  the  advice  I  shall  then  give  you, 
and  prevent  your  being  mortified  at  what  is  said  pure- 
ly for  your  good. 

"  In  short,  the  true  state  of  your  case  has  been  but 
too  plainly  proved  to  you  by  woeful  experience, 
though  you  are  yet  so  wilfully  blind  as  to  nourish  hope. 

"  You  must  plainly  perceive  that  all  those  ideas  of 
sublimity  in  your  mind,  of  tragic  grandeur,  are  every 
where  received  with  disgust :  and  as  to  comedy,  in  you 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  101 

it  is  deemed  vulgar.  The  city  considers  all  the  work 
you  have  done,  or  all  that  you  can  do,  as  nothing  more 
than  useless  lumher.  The  state,  you  see,  will  never 
employ  you  to  immortalize  their  worthies  or  their 
heroes,  and  the  church  scorns  your  connections :  even 
those  prattling  gossips,  the  daily  newspapers,  who  can 
find  leisure  to  give  a  loaded  detail  of  every  earth- horn 
trifle,  those  with  whom  nothing  is  too  trivial,  gross, 
silly,  or  unimportant,  who  are  the  true  thermometers 
of  the  temperature  of  the  people,  pass  you  hy  as  a  non- 
existence, unless  now  and  then  a  palpable  puff  is 
given  from  personal  friendship,  or  by  pay,  or  ac- 
cideutal  notice  is  taken  of  you  by  abuse — for  your 
real  genuine  praise  is  always  given  with  a  certain 
portion  of  fear,  lest  it  pall  upon  the  unwilling  reader. 
Even  the  annals  of  your  own  royal  school  declare  that 
you  are  scarcely  to  be  found  on  record.  In  fact,  you 
are  not  as  yet  naturalized,  and  therefore  can  claim  no 
natural  rights.  Thus,  in  the  whole  combination,  I 
think  it  must  appear  pretty  distinctly  to  you,  that  the 
country  has  you  now  in  check  mate,  and  I  should  be 
glad  to  be  informed  by  a  person  of  your  ingenuity, 
how  you  will  make  your  next  move,  or  what  is  your 
view  or  hope.  The  few  customers  to  your  little  shop 
from  Paternoster-Row,  you  say,  are  not  sufficient  to 
keep  soul  and  body  together;  and  I  know  traders  are 
always  hard  dealers. — In  fine,  you  must  abandon  the 
capricious  goddess  Fame,  when  imperious  hunger 
calls  you.  I  seriously  ask  you,  is  it  not  much  better  to 
have  a  good  dinner  than  to  starve  on  high  flown 
notions  of  sublimity?  I  confess  that  I  admire  the 
integrity  and  noble  independence  of  your  heart,  and 
the  justness  of  that  proper  pride,  which  inspires  you 
with  the  desire  to  execute  the  noblest  purposes  in 
your  power,  by  wliich  the  memory  of  the  honored 
dead  might  be  rendered  immortal,  and  the  eminent 
actions  of  the  living  would  become  illustrious  ex- 
amples in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  society  at  large 
be  enlightened,  from  tiie  habitual  view  of  images  of 
pure  beauty  and  heroic  virtue,  high  wrought  by  efforts 

3  L 


10^  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

of  sublime  genius.  But  alas !  this  is  not  the  time,  nor 
is  this  the  place.  For  although  there  may  he  some, 
who  are  able  to  appreciate  witi)  justness  the  value  of 
your  highest  efforts,  yet  these  are  too  few  to  give  you 
a  sufficient  support.  The  populace  is  not  prepared  to 
relish  so  great  an  attempt; — you  come  upon  the 
« ountry  unawares,  and  resemble  those  unhappy  mis- 
sionaries, \vhose  zeal  made  them  attempt  to  teach  the 
holy  mysteries  of  our  religion  to  savages,  who  had  so 
small  a  share  of  cultivation,  that  instead  of  listening  to 
lljose  pious  pastors,  they  first  knocked  them  down, 
and  then  eat  them  Learn  of  me ;  humble  your  pride, 
if  hunger  has  not  already  humbled  you  enough. 

*•'  I  shall  now  take  the  liberty  to  give  you  some 
advice  for  your  future  benefit,  still  most  sensibly  feel- 
ing that  it  may  be  a  degree  of  mortification  to  you : 
however,  true  friendship  is  always  willing  to  run  the 
risk  of  oflending,  if  by  it  she  may  do  a  real  service. 

*^  I  will  plainly  point  out  to  you  the  path  which  you 
must  follow  to  better  your  situation : 

^'  It  has  been  frequently  hinted  to  me  that  mimicry 
is  your  proper  walk,  and  as  it  is  that  which  suits  all 
capacities,  it  will  therefore  give  universal  delight :  try 
this  scheme;  turn  your  mind  to  mimicry :  here  all  will 
comprehend  you,  and  all  will  be  partakers  of  the 
pleasure  it  affords;  your  abilities  qualify  you  for  this 
department;  to  you  it  will  be  but  play,  and  affluence 
will  be  the  result.*^ 


COJ\T.LLSIOX. 

It  was  at  this  period  of  the  Beauty's  misfortunes, 
that  I  undertook  her  narrative. — She  had  been,  as  I 
now  discovered,  exceedingly  mortified  at  the  whole- 
some advice  of  her  best  friend;  it  sounded  to  her  like 
insult,  but  no  remedy  was  to  be  found :  she  had  rumi- 
nated on  it  till  she  grew  very  hungry,  and  as  her 
hunger  increased,  her  pride  diminished,  and  she  said 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  |03 

witluQ  herself,  "  This  state  of  want  cannot  be  en- 
dured;  I  must  console  myself  by  the  example  of  a 
great  prophet,  and  say,  *  if  the  mountain  will  not  at 
my  order  come  to  me,  why  then  I  must  go  to  the 
mountain.'  I  will  practise  mimicry,  since  I  must— - 
and  have  plenty."  She  accordingly  followed  her 
friend's  advice;  and  soon  eminence  and  plenty  were 
her  own;  the  young,  the  old,  the  great,  the  rich,  the 
learned,  the  wise,  the  beautiful,  the  vain,  and  the 
proud,  attended  late  and  early  at  her  gates ;  from  the 
new-born  infant  "  mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's 
arms,"  to  the  "  slippery  pat  aloon,"  tottering  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave ;  and  she  mimicked  the  likeness  of 
whoever  came,  with  so  much  address,  that  each  indi- 
vidual was  filled  with  rapturous  gratitude ;  for  she  did 
not  draw  in  caricatiira,  but  gave  an  air  of  either  love- 
liness, dignity,  or  wisdom,  which  seemed  to  assimilate 
with  the  subject,  and  appeared  to  raise  it  beyond  it- 
self; and  vanity  became  enamoured  of  iis  image.  In 
short,  the  experiment  so  successfully  answered,  that 
from  poverty  and  rags,  she  now  flaunts  in  as  good 
clothes  as  any  Christian  would  wish  to  wear,  is  well 
fed,  and  looks  sleek  and  in  good  case,  is  both  fat  and 
cheerful,  and  is  even  tliought  a  fit  companion  for  any 
real  gentlemen  or  lady  in  the  land;  is,  at  times,  suf- 
fered even  to  dine  (in  private)  with  my  lord  and  my 
lady,  and  the  second  table  is  always  at  her  command, 
(of  that  she  is  free:)  while  otherwise,  with  her  pride 
and  refined  notions,  she  might  have  remained  a  wan- 
dering outcast,  till  slie  had  died  starving  in  a  corner, 
unnoticed  and  forgot. 

But  such  is  the  perverseuess  of  human  nature,  that, 
notwithstanding  all  her  plenty,  she  still,  from  an  un- 
couquered  lurking  pride,  seems  to  feel  herself  as  one 
degraded  ;  she  laments  having  no  longer  the  power  to 
exercise  her  highest  talents,  and,  like  an  encaged  bird, 
who,  poor  fool,  still  flutters  those  wings  in  pride  of 
heart,  which  long  since  have  ceased  to  be  of  any  use, 
so  she  fancies  herself  reduced  to  be  no  better  than  the 
votary  of  vanity  and  that  she  suffers  fur  the  advantage 


104)  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

of  others.  And  truly,  thus  far  I  must  urge  in  justifica- 
tion of  these  seemingly  strange  notions,  that,  in  conse- 
quence of  her  new  callhig,  she  is  materially  injured  in 
her  person;  as,  for  instance,  the  original  beauty  of  her 
form  is,  by  such  frequent  habits  of  distortion,  at  length 
almost  lost:  her  mouth,  by  screwing  and  stretching, 
now  reaches,  almost,  from  ear  to  ear ;  and  her  nose,  by 
the  habitual  twisting  and  pulling  into  various  forms, 
to  bend  it  to  those  whom  she  has  aimed  to  represent, 
now  no  longer  retains  the  beauty  it  had  once  of  the 
Grecian  contour — at  one  time,  she  had  nearly  broke 
the  gristle  of  it,  by  attempting  to  form  it  to  the  likeness 
of  a  person  of  fashion,  whom  she  endeavoured  to  per- 
sonate. Then  her  eyes  also  have  acquired  such  a  kind 
of  squinting  leer,  as  renders  her  really  disagreeable 
to  look  at. 

She  still,  in  outward  appearance,  at  least,  pre- 
serves all  the  dignity  of  patience;  for,  at  times,  when 
she  has  been  insultingly  told,  that  she  got  her  bread 
by  grinning  for  her  dinner,  she  has  gaily  replied, 
^'  Let  those  laugh  who  win ;  they  cannot  deny  that  I 
have  a  good  dinner;  and,  as  all  pride  within  me  is  now 
subdued,  I  am  therefore  content  with  my  humble  lot." 


FOSTSCRIPT, 

The  curious  reader  will,  perhaps,  receive  some 
gratification,  though  not  pleasure  in  being  informed 
of  the  farther  ingenious  opinions  of  those  sagacious 
critics,  to  whom  I  have  alluded  in  a  former  chapter. 
They  still  persist  in  their  idea  that  the  Slighted 
Beauty  is  a  personification  of  the  Fine  Arts,  and,  in 
addition  to  what  has  already  been  said,  they  insist 
upon  it,  that  her  motley  dress,  in  which  she  is  de- 
scribed to  have  appeared  on  her  return  to  England, 
is  an  allusion  to  the  different  styles  of  those  various 
schools  of  Painting  in  Europe,  whose  manners  and 
excellencies  are  imbibed  and  adopted,  iu  a  greater  or 


THE  SLIGHTED  BEAUTY.  105 

less  degree,  hy  the  professors  in  this  country,  who 
compose  the  mass,  which  we  may  now  presume  to 
call  the  English,  or  rather  British,  school  of  art. 

The  chandler's  shop,  they  say,  is  significant  of  the 
employment  given  to  the  fine  arts  in  furnishing  all 
those  petty  performances,  which  so  much  amuse  the 
purchasers  of  modern  art.  Her  lectures  must  mean 
Hogarth's  moral  works.  Her  sisters  undoubtedly  are 
Sculpture  and  Poetry,  and  her  brother  no  other  than 
Architecture ;  and  her  final  resort  to  mimicry  is  veri  • 
fied  by  the  common  employment  of  English  talent  in 
the  practice  of  portraiture. 


ON 


ORIGINALITY, 

IMITATORS,  AND  COLLECTORS. 


-Desilies  imitator  in  arctum. 


The  silent  improvement  of  the  mind  may  distinctly 
be  seen  in  tlie  progressive  works  of  any  great  painter, 
whose  life  has  been  long. 

His  first  step  of  art  is  a  dry  imitation  of  the  most 
obvious  part  of  nature,  without  sufficient  knowledge, 
and  without  power  of  selection. 

The  second  stage  is  full  of  acquirement,  which,  to 
the  young  and  elated  student,  becomes  delightful  from 
its  novelty,  and  makes  him  look  down  on  the  simpli- 
city of  nature  as  scarcely  adequate  to  his  purpose, 
because,  in  comparison  with  his  own  conceptions,  it 
appears  to  him  insipid. 

The  third  and  last  state  is  a  mature  investigation  of 
nature,  regulated  by  t!ie  principles  of  science. 

The  first  of  these  stages  is  of  no  value ;  every  one 
can  arrive  at  it  who  is  willing  to  make  the  attempt.  It 
is  of  no  greater  difficulty  than  walking  or  dancing, 
and  may  be  acquired  by  all  in  a  certain  degree ;  but  to 
w^alk  or  dance  with  eminent  grace  or  dignity,  must  be 
the  peculiar  endowment  of  the  individual,  and  extends 
beyond  all  rules  or  lessons. 


108  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

The  case  is  the  same  in  painting :  it  is  the  display 
of  superiority  alone  which  gives  it  rank,  and  entitles 
it  to  respect;  although  the  ignorant  pay  nearly  an 
equal  degree  of  homage  to  every  attempt,  idle  or  in- 
genious, because  they  are  not  sensible  of  the  differ- 
ence, w^ide  as  it  is,  between  that  which  it  is  the  lot  of 
so  very  few  to  attain,  and  that  which  is  within  the 
reach  of  all  who  take  the  trouble  but  to  try. 

A  true  criterion  of  talent  is  alone  to  be  formed  from 
the  novelty,  the  originality,  which  is  to  be  found  in 
any  work  of  art.  As  this  is  one  of  the  constitutional 
marks  of  a  powerful  mind,  which  views  nature  from 
its  own  sensation  or  feeling,  and  an  indispensable 
requisite  in  every  work  of  genius,  originality  becomes 
the  very  test  of  merit.  Something  must  be  disclosed 
in  the  painter's  attempt,  not  only  of  an  estimable 
quality,  but  of  such  a  kind  as  tlie  world  has  never 
before  seen;  and  this  essence,  be  its  sphere  ever  so 
confined,  will  yet,  according  to  its  value  and  quantity, 
ascertain  its  degree  of  genius. 

Therefore,  it  is  not  enough  to  do  again  that  which 
has  already  been  done,  be  it  ever  so  grand  or  sublime : 
for,  notwithstanding  every  ingenious  endeavour  to 
hide  the  debt  by  common-place  alterations,  the  work 
will  still  want  that  novelty  by  which  it  is  to  captivate, 
and  which  is  to  give  it  all  its  intrinsic  value;  and,  for 
that  reason,  it  will  never  pass  as  the  offspring  of  an 
elevated  or  strong  mind,  although  it  may  denote  one 
of  much  ingenuity. 

Imitation  is  one  of  the  means  by  v/hich  genius 
often  makes  its  first  advances  towards  excellence;  but 
it  should  ever  be  regarded  as  the  means  only,  and  not 
as  the  end.  In  every  species  of  copying  from  the 
work  of  man,  you  put  your  mind  in  a  state  of  sub- 
jection and  servitude;  you  are  but  making  a  copy 
from  a  copy ;  it  is  giving  up  your  own  observation  and 
study  of  nature  into  the  hands  of  another. 

Fame  and  immortality  can  never  be  reached  by  him 
who  is  contented  to  depend  on  imitation  only  for  their 
attainment.   Whilst  you  follow,  it  ig  well  known,  you 


ORIGINALITY,  IMITATORS,  &  COLLECTORS.  109 

must  be  behind.  If  you  contend  for  fame  through  the 
channel  of  imitation,  you  must  remember  that,  in  order 
to  possess  yourself  of  that  eminence  which  has  long 
been  the  distinction  of  another,  you  must  not  be  con- 
tent with  borrowing  or  drawing  your  nourishment 
from  him  alone ;  for  while  he  thus  continues  to  claim 
superiority,  he  precludes  you  from  the  glory  at  whicli 
you  aim.  You  must  surpass  him  in  his  own  particular 
excellence:  you  must,  by  superior  achievement,  ob- 
scure his  name  and  anniliilate  his  importance  to  the 
world.  To  accomplish  this  end,  you  must  far  outdo 
those  excellencies  which  you  seemed  to  imitate,  by 
giving  to  them  new  and  unexpected  beauties,  and,  by 
these  means,  you  will  make  that,  which  you  began 
with  considering  as  your  example  and  your  pattern, 
end  in  being  your  footstool  only. 

It  was  in  this  manner  that  the  genius  of  Raffaelle 
triumphed  over  Massaccio,  and  over  Pietro  Perugino 
his  own  master;  and  yet  a  stronger  example  may  be 
seen  in  the  instance  of  Shakspeare,  whose  renown  so 
totally  obliterated  all  traces  of  his  predecessors,  from 
whom  he  is  said  to  have  copied,  that,  had  not  their 
names  been  rescued  from  oblivion  by  the  untired 
researches  of  the  laborious  antiquary,  we  should  not 
now  have  known  that  they  had  ever  existed. 

The  imitator  of  another,  if  fame  be  his  object,  must 
remember,  that  he  wages  war  against  the  elected 
sovereign  of  the  province  which  he  attempts  to  win, 
and  that,  in  his  endeavours  after  a  station  of  immor- 
tality, he  makes  pretensions  to  a  throne  already  filled, 
and  which  can  hold  but  one.  If,  indeed,  he  prove 
finally  successful,  and  raise  his  point  of  art  to  higher 
excellence  than  can  be  found  in  the  productions  which 
he  imitates,  his  predecessor  will  then  appear  to  have 
merely  furnished  liim  with  hints  of  which  he  alone 
has  been  able  to  make  the  full  use,  and  the  prize  of 
fame  will  be  solely  his  own.  The  world  will  cease  to 
find  a  value  in  that  which  they  once  admired,  when 
they  see  it  presented  to  them  in  so  much  more  perfect 
a  state;  aad  of  consequence  all  former  examples  will 

3  M 


110  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

be  rendered  useless,  become  neglected,  lost,  and  soou 
forgotten  in  the  attractive  sj)lendour  of  iiis  superior 
excellence. 

But  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  imitator  fail  to  surpass 
the  object  of  his  rivalship,  the  fate  of  being  neglected 
xvill  be  his;  for  the  world  is  not  solicitous  to  see  that 
done  in  an  inferior  degree,  wliich  it  lias  already  seen 
executed  with  success;  nor  must  he,  in  that  case,  pre- 
sume to  flatter  liimself  that  he  has  added  a  single  atom 
to  the  fund  of  human  knowledge  or  improvement.  It 
is  from  this  cause  tliat  tiie  least  portion  of  originality, 
although,  as  has  been  said,  displaying  itself  in  the 
lowest  department  of  art,  is  more  estimable  in  the  eye 
of  genius,  than  the  most  successful  imitation  of  the 
highest  excellence. 

Tlie  originality  of  genius  produces  a  variety,  which 
is  one  of  the  greatest  sources  of  our  entertainment  and 
pleasure,  and  is  soothing  to  the  inherent  impatience  of 
our  nature. 

Variety  is  a  beauty  requisite  in  every  work  of  art, 
and  can  only  be  wrong,  when  carried  to  a  degree  of 
excess  or  affectation,  or  when  persisted  in  to  the  pre- 
judice of  higher  requisites. 

There  is,  indeed,  an  originality  of  so  high  a  class, 
that  too  few^  are  the  minds  able  to  comprehend  its  ex- 
cellence :  I  mean  that  w  hich  shows  itself  in  the  high- 
est  department  of  art,  which  we  term  the  grand  style. 

Of  this  style  it  may  be  asserted,  that,  although  it 
appeal  to  us  witli  great  and  commanding  powers, 
though  it  convey  a  sentiment  the  most  awful  and  im- 
pressive, yet  it  speaks  a  language  so  little  cultivated, 
or  even  rudely  known,  that  none  but  minds  the  most 
highly  enlightened  can  be  made  fully  sensible  of  its 
essence. 

Miserable  would  be  the  state  of  that  artist,  who, 
endowed  by  nature  with  powers  so  rare  and  suited  to 
so  gre.at  a  task,  after  intense  application,  and  perhaps 
the  sacrifice  of  health  to  labour,  should  find  in  the  end, 
that  he  was  to  tell  his  tale  in  a  country  in  which  his 
language  had  not  been  learned,  and  to  a  people  who 


ORIGINALITY,  IMITATORS,  &  COLLECTORS,  m 

would  not  endure  to  hear  that  his  work  was  neither 
the  subject  of  vulgar  criticism,  nor  a  mere  toy  which 
they  are  entitled  to  praise  or  condemn  according  to 
their  ignorance  or  caprice ;  that  it  is  not  so  much  done 
for  their  pleasure  as  designed  for  their  improvement, 
by  opening  the  mind  to  receive  impressions  of  the 
highest  order,  and  aiding  it  to  nourish  the  highest 
virtues. 

In  this  style  must  be  classed,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  all  those  works  of  art  which  are  intended  to 
move  the  mind  with  terror  and  with  pity,  subjects 
which  we  but  too  commonly  find  rejected  with  disgust. 
This  refinement  upon  delicacy  itself,  this  extreme 
tenderness  of  sensibility,  which  is  uuable,  even  in 
picture,  to  survey  an  object  of  terror,  has  been  one  of 
the  greatest  hindrances  to  the  advancement  of  modern 
art  in  England,  notwithstanding  that  scenes  of  this 
description,  when  executed  by  foreign  masters,  are 
received  with  open  arms  into  collections  the  most 
select,  and  viewed  with  unbounded  admiration. 

Surely,  an  evil  star  has  presided  over  the  fate  of 
British  arts,  condemned  for  inability  to  do  that  which 
they  have  been  prohibited  from  attempting,  and  driven 
to  the  necessity  of  wasting  their  strength  on  trivial 
subjects,  unworthy  of  the  powers  and  below  the  dig- 
nity of  art ! 

Yet,  while  subjects  of  the  highest  order  of  art  have 
been  excluded  in  England  from  the  painter's  canvas,  it 
cannot  but  strike  an  observer  as  a  singular  circum- 
stance, that  our  stage  is  not  only  permitted,  but  even 
required,  to  exhibit  scenes  of  the  deepest  horror,  and 
the  tragic  dramatist  has  free  licence  to  *'  touch  the  very 
bounds"  of  all  that  we  abhor. 

The  principal  reason,  I  apprehend,  wherefore  sub- 
jects of  ten'or  have  been  objected  to  in  painting,  at  the 
same  time  that  they  are  thus  admired  in  the  deepest 
scenes  of  tragedy,  is  that  our  minds  are  not  prepared, 
by  degrees,  for  the  impression  made  on  us  by  the 
picture,  which  flashing  upon  us  at  once,  affrights  us, 
whereas  the  effect  of  the  drama  steals  upon  us  gradii- 


lis  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

ally,  by  slow  paces,  until  we  are  rendered  capable  of 
viewing  the  most  terrible  scenes. 

Fortunately  for  the  cause  of  the  liberal  arts  ia 
Britain,  there  appears  a  strong  probability  that  the 
assistance  given  to  Painting  and  Sculpture,  by  the 
sjplendid  and  munificent  establishments  which  have 
just  at  this  time  been  formed  amongst  us,  may  soon 
raise  a  school  to  vie  M'itli  those  that  have,  for  ages, 
been  the  boast  of  every  other  polished  state  in  Europe ; 
and  that  the  charm  will  at  length  be  broken,  which 
has  so  long  kept  the  arts  of  design  in  bonds,  with  a 
sort  of  necromantic  power. 

A  melancholy  spectacle  has  it  offered  to  English- 
men, to  view  the  pining  arts  of  Britain  beset  and 
trampled  by  an  army  of  connoisseurs  and  collectors  of 
foreign  pictures,  strengthened  by  the  most  powerful 
assistance  of  dealers  in  this  species  of  traffic,  all 
arranged  rank  and  file,  and  bidding  defiance  to  every 
eifort  of  our  own  country,  associating  closely  among 
themselves,  assigning  great  names  to  the  fragments 
they  possessed,  standing  before  them  with  affected 
rapture,  and  congratulating  each  other  on  their  signal 
good  fortune  and  their  taste !  These  men  beheld,  with 
terror  and  dismay,  all  such  as  fell  under  the  suspicion 
of  real  knowledge  and  judgement  in  the  art,  appre- 
liensive  lest  a  discovery  might  be  made,  which  would 
dissolve  the  magic  charm,  in  one  moment  annihilate 
their  visionary  riches,  and  change  to  trumpery  their 
ideal  wealth. 

This  whole  mass  of  operation  might  have  been 
surveyed  with  the  eye  of  compassion,  as  we  see  the 
poor  lunatic  who  fancies  himself  a  king,  or  regarded 
as  a  ludicrous  scene  in  a  comedy,  but  that  it  was  not 
quite  so  innocent  in  its  effects.  It  kept  up  perpetual 
war  against  the  talents  of  all  our  living  Artists,  while 
an  excess  of  adulation  was  bestowed  on  foreign 
Avorks,  and  prices  demanded  and  given  for  them  as  if 
they  had  been  the  productions,  not  of  men,  but  angels ; 
the  possessors,  with  affected  wonder,  asking  the  reason 
ichy  such  works  could  not  now  be  done^  as  if  any  op- 


ORIGINALITY,  IMITATOHS,  &  COLLECTORS.  113 

portimity  had  been  afforded  of  ascertaining  by  ex- 
periment, whether  they  could  be  done  or  not. 

I  shall  conclude  with  observing,  that  if  the  exces- 
sive praises,  of  which  some  men  of  this  description 
were  so  liberal,  had  been  bestowed,  with  pure  justice, 
on  those  works  alone  which  deserve,  and  ever  will 
claim,  our  respect,  it  would  have  been  grateful  to 
every  lover  of  true  genius ;  but  when,  on  the  contrary, 
all  sorts  of  common  place  or  ruined  performances 
were  presented  for  your  admiration,  and  when  you 
perceived  that  mere  trifles  were  called  miracles,  and 
saw  all  this  lofty  farce  incessantly  played  off  between 
cunning  that  sells,  and  ignorance  that  buys,  it  became 
difficult  to  view  the  scene  with  common  patience. 


LETTER 


FROM 


A  DISAPPOINTED  GENIUS  * 


As  an  old  practitioner  in  the  liberal  arts,  I  claim 
your  indulgence.  I  consider  you  iu  some  degree  as 
their  champion  and  protector,  and  though,  by  your 
profession,  I  know  you  cannot  be  rich,  yet  I  am  sure 
you  are  honest,  and  your  attention  ever  alive  to  the 
voice  of  truth.  I  therefore  boldly  make  my  complaint 
to  you,  as  it  flows  from  the  source  of  experience,  and 
beg  leave  to  bring  forward  to  your  observation  a 
species  of  patrons  of  the  arts,  who,  saving  the  pre- 
dominance of  their  vanity,  have,  I  believe,  very  good 
intentions,  yet  produce  by  their  actions  tlie  worst  of 
consequences.  These  signiors^  like  libertines  in 
another  department,  are  perpetually  in  quest  of  nov- 
elty, and,  every  year,  find  a  new  wonder,  whose 
fancied  talents  are  of  their  own  creation,  and  on  whom 
they  lavish  all  their  little  patronage  and  attention ; 
some  embryo  artist^  cheaply  purchased,  who  bends 
with  profound  humility  and  homage  for  the  unex- 
pected blessing,  thanks  heaven  and  his  genius,  and 
concludes  that  his  fortune  is  made.  The  fond  patron 
is  elated  with  the  gratifying  liope  that  his  discern- 
ment and  his  taste  will  now  be  proved  in  the  face  of 

*  Originally  addressed  to  the  Artist. 


116  VAlllETlES  ON  ART. 

day,  by  the  splendour  of  the  rising  genius,  which  his 
sagacity  has  been  able  to  discover  before  it  was  known 
to,  or  became  the  wonder  of,  the  world,  and  thus  his 
fancy  unites  him  as  a  joint  sharer  in  the  future  glory 
of  his  protege. 

Tlie  consequences  produced  by  this  precipitate 
favour,  are  often  deplorable,  as  the  eflfects  are  pre- 
cisely like  tiiose  of  a  trap.  The  young,  unthinking, 
vain,  though  innocent  and  pitial)le,  victim  is  deluded 
on,  till  the  flower  of  his  youth  be  past,  and  till  it  is 
become  too  late  for  him  to  begin  or  seek  another  pro- 
fession ;  and  when  he  is  thus  irretrievably  encaged  in 
the  trammels  of  his  art,  his  patron  leaves  him  to  his 
late — commonly  either  finding  himself  mistaken  in 
the  talents  of  his  subject,  or  cooling  in  his  attachment 
as  novelty  wears  off,  or  tired,  perhaps,  by  repeated 
attempts  to  promote  the  fame  of  one  whom  lie  can 
prevail  on  so  very  few  to  admire.  The  unhappy 
wonder  is  thus  turned  adrift  on  chance  and  on  the 
world,  where,  if  his  profession  be  painting,  he  be- 
comes a  picture-cleaner  or  an  out-cast,  with  poverty 
in  store,  and  leisure  more  than  enough  to  deplore  the 
fatal  hour  he  first  was  favoured  by  the  caprice  of  his 
dangerous  admirer,  while  the  patron,  untaught  by  ex- 
perience, all  alert,  spreads  fresh  nets  for  fresh  game, 
ensnares  anew  some  unfledged  subject,  but  with  lively 
hopes  of  better  luck;  thus  spoiling  an  honest  trades- 
man, whose  success  in  the  world  his  bounty  would 
have  insured. 

The  wonder-hunters  put  me  in  mind  of  those  gen- 
tlemen iu  iiartholomew  fair,  who  are  masters  of  what 
is  called  a  Flying  Coach,  and  are  continually  taking 
up  fresh  darlings,  one  after  another,  giving  each  little 
fluttering  lieart  a  whirl  in  their  airy  vehicle,  which 
^'  swiftly  flies,  yet  makes  no  way,"  but  having  once 
set  it  down  again  on  the  same  ground  from  whence 
they  took  it  up,  regardless  of  the  piteous  countenance 
of  the  poor  mortifled  urchin,  look  briskly  round  in 
quest  of  fresh  aspirers  to  their  bewitching  honors^ 


LETTER  FROM  A  DISAPPOINTED  GENIUS.    II7 

who  are,  of  course,  in  tbeir  turn,  cast  off  like  those 
who  went  before. 

For,  give  me  leave  to  remark  to  you,  that  those 
professors,  ^^  which  have  borne  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day,"  and  whose  long  and  laborious  studies 
have  been  bent  on  the  improvement  of  abilities  which 
their  efforts  have  demonstrated,  arc  never  in  the 
thoughts  of  such  patrons  as  objects  of  encouragement : 
fresh  wonders  are  all  they  seek,  totally  regardless  in 
what  manner  those  future  years  are  to  be  spent,  over 
the  fate  of  which  they  may  be  said  to  have  east  the 
die. 

Peace  to  all  such! — But  there  have,  of  late,  ap- 
peared (thanks  to  our  better  stars  !)  instances  of  such 
patronage  as  is  truly  patriotic,  which  revive  the 
drooping  head  of  art,  and  promise  national  splendour 
from  its  influence. 

I  am,  &c.  &c., 

A  Disappointed  Genius. 


S  N 


ON  THE 

INDEPENDENCE  OF  PAINTJNG  ON 
POETRY. 


Decipit  exemplar. 


It  is  a  received  opinion,  in  mintls  not  used  to  make 
nice  distinctions,  that  painting  is  the  follower  of,  and 
dependant  on  poetry ;  and  this  notion  has,  in  some  in- 
stances, been  inculcated  by  the  authorities  of  such 
men  as  apparently  ought  to  have  understood  each  of 
those  sciences  better:  to  which  painters  have  never 
given  an  answer,  because,  having  only  the  power  of 
being  eloquent  on  canvas,  they  have  no  opportunity 
of  controverting  this  palpable  absurdity.  They  are  in 
the  state  of  the  lion  in  the  fable,  who  was  shown  by 
the  forester  his  image  conquered  by  the  man  :  had 
lions  been  the  carvers,  this  example  had  been  re- 
versed. 

Take  all  your  ideas  from  the  descriptions  of  the 
poets,  and  all  your  actions  and  expressions  of  the 
passions  from  the  stage,  and  you  will  then  be  a  hope- 
ful painter. — This  is  the  voice  of  folly ;  these  are  the 
watery  notions  of  insipid  men;  yet,  however  ridicu- 
lous or  false  such  advice  may  appear  to  an  enliglit- 
ened  mind,  however  confined  and  ignorant  in  concep- 
tiou,  it  would  notwithstanding  certainly  be  received 
as   good   counsel,   by  many   whose   education   and 


120  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

power  of  intellect  have  sufficiently  enabled  tlieni  to 
see  its  grossness,  had  they  but  spared  the  time 
rcfjuisite  to  make  tlie  inquiry. 

1  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  either  of  those  arts  may 
reap  some  small  advantage  from  the  assistance. of  tlic 
other;  they,  as  studious  followers  of  nature,  may  be 
said  to  receive  more  or  less  assistance  from  all  things 
that  exist. 

Painting  and  poetry  both  begin  their  career  from 
the  same  important  point,  and  each  strives  to  ap- 
proach the  same  goal  by  different  paths.  Like  com- 
panions of  equality  on  a  journey,  they  may  at  times 
derive  aid  from  each  other. 

13ut  let  it  ever  be  remembered,  that  they  are  equally 
the  children  and  pupils  of  Nature,  rival  imitators  of 
lier  in  hopes  of  fame ;  and  if  either  the  poet  or  the 
painter  be  obliged  to  submit  to  the  dominion  or  di- 
rection of  the  other,  he  will  soon  find  himself  deluded 
out  of  his  right  road  by  an  ignis  fatuus,  a  false  repre- 
sentation of  tlie  great  archetype.  Moreover,  in  addi- 
tion to  all  his  own  errors,  he  will  frequently  perceive 
himself  involved  in  those  of  his  companion  whom  he 
has  acknowledged  as  his  superior,  thus  proving  him- 
self to  be  of  a  mean  genius,  without  hope  of  being  ever 
ranked  in  the  first  class.  For  he  demonstrates,  that 
his  capacity  does  not  enable  him  to  judge  or  choose 
for  liimself,  hut  that,  instead  of  applying  to  nature  di- 
rectly, he  receives  his  ideas  through  the  medium  of 
another's  mind,  whom,  like  a  weak  bigot,  he  has 
made,  of  his  equal,  his  protector  and  saint. 

I  have  often  thought,  that  there  is  no  better  way  to 
prove  the  defects  or  excellencies  of  a  poet,  in  respect 
to  his  descriptive  powers  or  knowledge  of  nature,  than 
by  making  a  composition  for  a  picture  from  the  images 
which  he  raises,  and  from  his  own  description  of  his 
characters  and  their  actions.  You  by  these  means  put 
him  on  his  trial :  you  will  detect  every  deviation  from 
nature  :  and,  when  his  performance  is  brought  to  this 
strict  examination,  it  will  sometimes  happen,  that  what 
in  words  might  seem  like  a  true  representation  of 


INDEPENDENCE  OF  PAINTING  ON  POETRY.  121 

nature  to  the  poet,  to  the  painter  may  appear  much 
like  the  tale  of  a  false  witness  in  a  court  of  justice,  and 
he  will  soon  be  convinced,  that  the  admired  work  is 
no  more  than  an  ingenious  falsehood. 

Historical  truths,  howsoever  related,  possess  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  unavoidable  simplicity,  and  are  mark- 
ed by  such  circumstances  only  as  are  necessary  in  ex- 
plaining the  state  of  the  case  in  question;  whereas  tijc 
poet,  indulging  his  fancy,  perhaps,  to  forward  his 
own  particular  purpose,  but  too  frequently  loads  his 
tale  with  those  additional  conceptions,  which  in  the 
painter's  province  will  prove  only  cumbersome  min- 
utise,  and,  when  set  before  him  as  an  example,  will 
become  a  stumbling-block  in  his  way. 

Tliere  is  also  an  interesting  energy  in  pure  nature, 
which  poetry,  as  an  imitative  art,  cannot  possibly 
possess. 

I  wish  to  have  it  understood,  that  wliat  I  say  now 
is  relative  chiefly  to  descriptive  poetry  ;  in  which, 
whosoever  has  searched  the  works  of  the  poets  with 
a  painter's  mind,  must  have  observed  the  frequent 
occurrence  of  circumstances  that  are  incompatible 
with  each  other. 

It  is,  surely,  not  the  province  of  one  art  to  imitate 
another  ;  nature  alone  is  the  great  object  from  which 
all  art  draws  its  nourishment,  and  it  will  be  found  by 
experiment,  tiiat  art  thus  copying  art  in  succession, 
tlie  evaporation  of  nature's  essence  will  be  so  great  at 
each  remove,  that  very  soon  scarce  any  of  the  original 
flavour  will  be  perceptible,  and  besides  tliis,  it  will 
have  gained  an  additional  taste  from  each  vessel 
through  which  it  has  passed. 

To  paint,  therefore,  the  passions,  from  the  exhibi- 
tions of  them  on  the  stage,  or  from  any  intended  de 
scriptions  of  nature  by  the  poets,  is  to  remove  your- 
self one  degree  farther  from  truth,  and  places  the 
painter  in  the  same  forlorn  state  to  which  a  poet 
would  reduce  himself,  who  made  pictures  aud  the 
stage  his  only  means  of  seeing  nature. 


i^2  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

The  greatest  works  of  art,  both  in  painting  and  in 
sculpture,  evidently  derive  all  their  highest  excellence 
from  being  transcripts  of  ideas  formed  from  a  study 
of  general  nature,  and  regulated  by  a  judicious  choice; 
and,  if  this  be  the  case,  it  must  then  be  acknowledged 
they  would  have  been  precisely  the  same,  had  poetry 
never  existed  but  in  the  mind  alone. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  asked,  why  was  our  prime  poet 
Shakspeare  selected  for  the  English  painters  to  try 
their  first  etforts  on? — 1  would  answer,  not  because 
he  helped  those  painters  in  their  art,  but  because  the 
popular  eminence  of  Shakspeare's  name  would  help 
on  to  high  notoriety  any  work  connected  with  a  poet 
already  so  precious,  and  would  thus  become  the  most 
ready  means  of  attracting  an  unwilling  people  to  pay 
some  attention  to  their  unknown  painters.  And  I  will 
venture  to  pronounce  that  not  one  of  those  pictures, 
from  the  best  to  the  very  worst,  gained  the  smallest 
degree  of  intrinsic  worth  from  the  genius  of  Shaks- 
peare; and  for  this  plain  reason,  that  what  Shaks- 
peare had  done  best  was  totally  out  of  the  province  of 
the  painter's  art  to  represent ;  and  also,  that  where 
the  painter  has  succeeded  best,  it  has  been  in  that 
which  it  was  not  in  the  power  of  words  to  express, 
but  belongs  to  painting  alone,  and  which  therefore 
even  Shakspeare  was  unable  to  give^  notwithstanding 
all  his  acknowledged  powers. 

The  above  reasons,  I  conjecture,  are  the  only  true 
ones  which  have  induced  any  painter  of  merit  to  paint 
from  any  poet,  not  because  he  was  helped  in  tlic 
powers  of  his  art,  but  because  he  was  helped  in  the 
sale  of  his  work;  since,  by  connecting  himself  with 
the  poet,  he  immediately  partook,  and  became  a 
sharer,  in  all  the  advantages  of  liis  established  noto- 
riety. 

It  will  be  urged  that  Nicholas  Poussin  has  painted 
from  the  poets.  This  may  be  true,  and  I  am  a[)t  to 
think  he  was,  of  all  painters,  the  fittest  to  paint  irom 
them.  He  was  (If  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression) 
the  pedant  of  painters.    His   subjects  are  often  from 


INDEPENDENCE  OF  PAINTING  ON  POETRY.  123 

the  poets,  his  figures  from  the  antique  statues,  and  his 
expressions  of  the  passions  chiefly  from  the  stage  or 
some  other  substitute  for  nature:  he  had  a  predilec- 
tion for  any  helps,  so  he  might  avoid  approaching 
that  source.  He  had  so  little  the  habit  of  applying  to 
nature  for  assistance,  that  it  produced  in  him  a  pain- 
ful awkwardness,  whenever  necessity  obliged  hira  to 
it;  and,  therefore,  he  is  entitled  the  learned  painter, 
in  distinction  from  the  natural  painter.  His  expres- 
sions of  the  passions  seem  to  have  been  made  from 
description,  or  by  receipts  for  expression;  in  conse- 
quence of  which  they  have  the  appearance  of  being 
overcharged :  it  is  tliis  appearance  which  gives  to  his 
figures  the  air  of  hypocrites  or  pretenders  to  feeling, 
and  is  therefore  apt  to  disgust,  and  to  prevent  our 
sympathy. 

These  are  his  greatest  defects  ;  yet  it  must  be  also 
remembered,  that,  mixed  with  tliat  which  ought  not 
to  be  imitated,  there  is  much  in  Poussin  to  be  justly 
admired.  It  is  most  true,  also,  that  his  expressions 
cannot  be  mistaken  by  the  most  vulgar  observer,  any 
more  than  you  can  mistake  those  of  a  mask  ;  but  then 
they  are  without  that  beautiful  variety  with  whicli 
nature  teems,  without  those  nice  dilierences  which 
create  the  exquisite  sympathy,  the  interest,  which  we 
find  inspired  by  the  works  of  RafiTaelle.  Kaffaelle, 
indeed,  by  possessing  a  thousand  times  the  capa- 
city of  Poussin,  had  a  field  of  greater  extent,  in  which 
to  range  and  to  make  a  more  select  choice  for  his  pur- 
pose; and  this  enabled  him  to  approach  so  much 
nearer  to  a  comparison  with  Nature  lierself,  and  gave 
him  the  vast  pre-eminence  which  lie  possessed. — In 
Poussin  it  is  the  head  and  the  hand  we  admire:  in 
Raffaelle  the  head,  the  hand,  the  heart,  command  our 
equal  astonishment  and  delight. 

It  may  be  remarked,  that  the  meaner  painters  and 
young  students,  in  their  beginnings,  are  the  most  fond, 
of  any,  of  devoting  their  powers  to  the  service  of  the 
poets. 


124  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

There  seem  to  have  been  but  two  principal  causes, 
why  painting  should  ever  have  applied  itself  to  poetry 
for  help  :  tiie  one  is  the  barrenness  of  those  individual 
minds  which  have  sought  and  followed  it ;  the  other, 
that  a  picture  not  being  capable  of  giving  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  a  long  narration,  which  yet  may  have 
some  point  of  time  in  its  events  fit  for  the  powers  of  the 
art,  the  spectator  may  refer  to  the  poet's  page,  (who 
^ives  the  complicated  detail)  and  will  be  thence 
enabled  to  comprehend,  with  full  effect,  that  sentiment 
in  tlie  picture  which  no  words  can  give.  This  last 
reason  is  applicable  also  to  subjects  for  painting  taken 
from  history. 

But  another  great  argument  to  be  urged  against 
painting  from  the  poet  is  this  ;  that,  as  all  human 
powers  are  limited,  you  will  find  that  the  poet,  be  he 
ever  so  great,  has  still  had  his  weakness  to  hide  ;  he 
has,  judiciously  perhaps,  ranged  through  all  his 
knowledge  of  nature,  to  select  out  those  parts  in  which 
he  could  best  bring  his  powers  to  a  focus,  and  might 
best  be  able  to  screen  his  wants  ;  consequently  he 
can  give  you  at  most  but  a  partial  view  of  nature,  and 
therefore  his  representation,  like  all  art  when  tried  by 
the  tally  of  nature  and  of  truth,  will  be  found  fre- 
quently to  be  distorted,  and,  in  many  respects,  imper- 
fect and  unnatural,  and  must  of  course  have  a  tendency 
to  mislead  tlie  efforts  of  the  painter. 

It  is  applicable  to  my  present  purpose  and  will  ex- 
plain what  I  mean  to  say,  if  I  refer  to  an  instance 
where  the  same  story  is  related  by  the  historian  and 
by  the  poet. 

The  book  of  Ruth,  as  found  in  the  Bible,  is  given 
with  all  that  fascinating  simplicity,  energy,  and  in- 
terest, which  ever  accompany  an  unassuming  relation 
of  simple  facts ;  and,  from  being  divested  of  all  art,  it 
captivates  with  irresistible  power,  like  truth  itself. 

The  same  story  is  said  to  be  also  told  by  Thomson 
in  his  Seasons,  under  the  name  of  Lavinia.  But  the 
distance  at  which  it  is  removed  from  its  original,  by 
the  artifi.cial  and  studied  modes  of  poetic  narration, 


INDEPENDENCE  OF  PAINTING  ON  POETRY.  125 

diminishes  the  air  of  truth,  and  renders  sympathy 
comparatively  inadmissible.  It  would,  therefore,  he 
the  grossest  absurdity  for  the  painter  to  look  to  him 
for  his  example.  Besides,  the  means  are  here  made  to 
predominate  over  the  end.  The  author  seems  more 
solicitous  to  draw  our  attention  and  admiration  on  his 
own  poetic  powers,  than  on  the  delicate  distress  in 
which  he  has  involved  his  fair  Lavinia,  and  reminds 
us  of  some  vain  actors  on  the  stage,  who,  instead  of 
attending  to  the  character  they  have  undertaken  to 
represent,  are  wholly  employed  in  looking  round  on 
the  audience,  to  discover  how  many  they  have  cap- 
tivated by  their  charms. 

This  preference  of  the  means  to  the  end  is  the 
disease  of  professorship,  to  which  all  professors  are 
but  too  liable.  The  painter  is  enamoured  with  hand- 
ling and  executive  power;  the  accomplished  per- 
former in  music,  if  required  to  play,  will,  instead  of 
such  a  composition  as  would  recommend  his  taste  or 
delight  your  ear,  sometimes  give  you  that  which  has 
no  one  property  to  recommend  it  to  notice,  but  its 
infinite  diflBculty  to  be  performed. 

Bombast  in  poetry,  and  ranting  on  tlie  stage,  are 
allowed  to  be  the  bane  of  either  art;  yet  they  have 
power  to  captivate  the  vulgar,  who  abundantly  admire 
and  freely  give  applause  where  sounding  words  in 
the  poet,  or  violent  distortions  in  the  actor,  are  oifered 
as  the  substitute  for  meaning  and  for  sense ;  and  many 
an  empty  nothing  seems  embodied  by  these  splendid 
impositions. 

But  all  this  is  of  no  sort  of  use  towards  helping  tlie 
painter  in  his  work  :  the  contemplation  of  it  has  rather 
a  tendency  to  hurt  the  state  of  his  mind,  in  which  the 
grandeur  and  simplicity  of  Nature  ought  alone  to 
prevail,  as  they  do  when  she  inspires  the  works  of  the 
greatest  masters. 

Where,  in  fact,  can  he  go  for  succour,  but  to 
nature?  If  he  wish  to  represent  the  person  of  a  beauti- 
ful Eve  on  liis  canvas,  shall  he  wander  to  the  poet? 
And  will  he  there,  even  in  the  highest  examples  of 

3o 


136  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 


the  art,  find  himself  much  assisted  in  his  eflPorts,  by 
beiug  infurmed  tliat 

^•'  Heaven*^  was  "  in  her  e^c," 
Or, 

'^  In  her  gestures,  dignity  and  loveP'' 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  but  that  the  poet,  in  so  de- 
scribing her,  has  done  his  work  well,  as  all  that  he 
Jiad  to  do  was  to  make  us  conceive  that  his  Eve  was 
complete  and  perfect,  and  this  he  has  eifected  by  the 
proper  means  in  his  art,  leaving  us  to  finish  in  our 
minds  the  idea  he  has  inspired:  but  the  painter  still 
remains  unassisted,  and  has  yet  to  apply  to  nature  as 
his  source  of  information,  as  he  cannot  paint,  from 
words,  either  "  Heaven  in  her  eye,"'  or  ^^  Love  in  her 
gestures." 

And,  notwithstanding  that  many  flights  of  imagina- 
tion, arising  in  the  mind  of  the  poet,  and  particularly 
fitted  to  his  art,  may  have  given  vast  delight,  and 
caused  the  highest  admiration,  we  shall  yet,  on  the 
trial,  be  convinced  that  they  are  not  adapted  to  that 
of  the  painter,  and  therefore  are  no  model  for  his  imi- 
tation; since  the  painter  ought  to  furnish  his  work 
with  those  materials  best  suited  to  his  own  art  ar.d  to 
his  own  purpose,  selected  from  Nature's  boundless 
variety  by  the  direction  and  influence  of  his  individual 
disposition  and  sensation;  by  which  means  the  work 
will  be  new,  anrl  of  consequence  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree  delightful. 

There  cannot  be  a  stronger  proof  of  a  genius  for 
painting,  than  to  know  well  the  subjects  best  adapted 
to  the  powers  of  the  art. 

When  you  paint  from  a  poet,  you  may  be  said  to 
have  your  dinner  from  the  table  of  one  man ;  you 
must  take  what  he  was  able  to  give  you,  whether  it 
particularly  suit  your  palate  or  not ;  but  from  Nature's 
great  banquet  you  have  an  unbounded  range  for  your 
choice,  you  have  the  liberty  which  the  poet  had,  of 
selecting  out  those  parts  and  those  circumstances 


INDEPENDENCE  OF  PAINTING  ON  POETRY,    i^ 

which  best  suit  your  temper,  your  powers,  and  your 
particular  art. 

It  must  without  doubt  be  acknowledged,  that  every 
work  of  the  liberal  arts  is  a  lesson  by  which  we  may 
be  taught  to  discover  and  distinguish  the  highest 
beauties  of  nature;  still  remembering  that  art  is  not 
nature,  any  more  than  the  directing  post  is  tiie  road 
you  look  for. 

I  press  the  argument  with  the  more  force,  to  pre- 
vent all  bigotted  reliance  on  guides,  weak  and  fallible 
as  ourselves :  Nature  we  may  rely  on  with  the  most 
absolute  security,  since  in  her  there  is  nothing  con- 
tradictory or  false,  and  when  seen  by  the  cultivated 
mind  of  a  man  of  genius,  she  presents  an  ample  store 
of  that  which  is  perfectly  simple,  beautiful,  pathetic 
and  sublime,  in  a  much  higher  degree  than  can  be 
found  in  any  work  of  art,  nature  being  the  fountain  of 
all  art. 

I  cannot  but  oflPer  one  remark  of  some  authority, 
which  is,  that  in  searching  through  the  works  of 
Raffaelle,  Michael  Angelo,  and  Corregio,  the  most 
eminent  painters  that  have  appeared  in  the  world  since 
the  revival  of  tlie  arts,  you  will  find  but  very  few 
subjects  by  their  hands  taken  from  a  poet,  and,  of 
their  works  of  the  highest  fame,  not  one  :  and  as  these 
names  are  at  the  highest  pinnacle  of  art,  it  is  a  clear 
proof  of  that  eminence  being  within  the  reach  of  paint- 
ing without  the  help  of  the  poets.  The  best  historians, 
and  simple  relations  of  facts  have  been  their  chief 
resource;  and  whenever  any  of  the  great  painters 
have  been  what  we  may  justly  call  poetical  in  their 
compositions,  it  has  always  been  from  their  own 
funds,  by  the  means  of  which  they  were  enabled  to 
bring  together  such  materials  as  best  suited  their 
powers  and  their  art.  For  the  poetic  sul)jects  of  a 
painter,  and  those  of  a  poet,  diifer  as  much  in  their 
nature,  as  do  the  means  by  which  the  sentiment  of 
each  is  given  to  the  world. 

In  a  picture  there  should  be  no  attempt  to  tell  a 
long  and  complicated  tale :  the  art  of  painting  is  not 
the  vehicle  for  long  stories. 


128  •    VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

Tbe  subjects  best  suited  to  the  powers  of  the  art 
are,  ist,  such  as  contain  a  sentiment  within  them- 
selves, which  may  be  impressed  by  character,  action, 
and  situation;  and  are  not  dependant  on  foreign  aid 
for  an  explanation  of  their  greatest  interests; 

Or,  2dly,  those  eminent  events  which  are  known  to 
all,  yet,  in  their  relation,  are  unincumbered  by  trifling 
minuteness  of  description,  and  leave  the  imagination 
to  range  without  control ; — Such  are  all  the  subjects 
of  Sacred  Scripture  ; — witness  those  innumerable 
beauties,  which  have  been  introduced  in  pictures 
relative  to  tlie  first  years  of  the  life  of  Christ; 

Or,  Sdhj^  those  historical  facts  which  are  rendered 
eminent  or  important  either  from  their  consequences, 
or  by  characters  conspicuous  for  their  virtues  or  tlieir 
vices. 

In  fine,  the  painter  who  would  give  most  force  and 
dignity  to  his  art,  whether  he  take  the  subject  for  his 
picture  from  the  historian  or  the  poet,  should  consider 
himself  as  inventing  a  kind  of  Episode  to  the  author. 
He  is  not  his  servant  or  follower,  but  his  equal :  he  is 
to  illustrate  and  amplify  all  that  wliich  words  cannot 
reach,  and  thus  to  complete  the  poet's  work;  he  must 
add  the  supplement,  be  the  explainer  and  splendid 
commentator. 

For  there  are  certain  ideas  and  impressions,  which 
the  mind  is  capable  of  receiving,  and  which  words  are 
not  calculated  to  give.  This  is  eminently  exemplified 
in  matters  of  natural  history  and  mechanical  inven- 
tions, which  can  never  be  explained  by  words  alone, 
without  the  help  of  figures  or  diagrams  added  to  the 
descriptions — The  figure  gives  the  form,  the  words  its 
qualities. 

Just  in  this  state  of  relationship  stand  the  painter 
and  the  poet.  Neither  of  them  is  the  inferior  or  imi- 
tator of  the  other,  but  equal,  and  distinct  in  their 
powers ;  and  when  their  force  is  united  in  assisting 
each  other,  they  leave  nothing  for  the  imagination  to 
supply. 


SECOND  LETTER 


FROM 


A  DISAPPOINTED  GENIUS. 


The  reader  may  recollect,  in  an  early  part  of  these 
papers,  a  short  address  from  an  unfortunate  Artist, 
whose  memoirs  form  the  subject  of  the  following  letter. 
Although  I  will  not  take  on  me  to  say  how  far  it  may 
prove  entertaining  to  my  readers  in  general,  I  am  in 
hopes  that,  with  some  of  them,  it  may  have  a  moral 
tendency,  by  pointing  out  the  pitiable  consequences  of 
misapplied  industry  in  those  who,  either  from  youthful 
conceit,  the  fond  partiality  of  parents,  or  the  incon- 
siderate flattery  of  friends,  have  been  led  on,  step  by 
step,  to  espouse  a  profession  for  which  nature  never 
designed  them,  and  for  which  they  have  forfeited 
nearly  all  the  blessings  that  life  has  to  bestow,  and 
embraced,  in  their  stead,  poverty  and  contempt;  when 
the  same  industry  and  the  same  moderate  talents, 
which  failed  in  the  pursuit  of  celebrity,  would  have 
been  their  security  in  a  more  ordinary  track,  and 
might  have  brought  them  every  requisite  to  com- 
petency and  comfort. 

From  other's  harms  learn  to  bewai'e, 
And  you  shall  do  full  well. 

Gallant  Lady's  Fall. 


130  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

I  CONCLUDE  you*  are  well  informed  by  your  scien- 
tific  mind  and  professional  knowledge,  that  all  things 
seen  in  perspective  make  those  parts  appear  the 
largest  which  approach  nearest  to  our  eye.  A  similar 
cifect  is  produced  by  the  influence  of  that  partiality 
which  every  man  feels  for  himself:  and  although  I  am 
well  aware  that  to  some  I  may  appear  so  distant  in 
the  horizon  that  I  am  almost  lost  in  the  vanishing 
point,  yet,  in  ray  own  view  of  the  prospect,  1  am  not 
only  by  very  much  the  largest,  but  also  the  most  fin- 
ished figure  in  the  whole  extensive  circle,  and  with 
this  prepossession,  I  can  have  no  doubt  that  whatever 
relates  to  myself  or  my  concerns  must  be  infinitely 
interesting  to  you. 

It  was  my  ill  fortune  to  have  been  born  in  one  of 
the  counties  of  England  the  most  distant  from  the 
metropolis,  and  this  untoward  circumstance  debarred 
me  from  every  means  of  early  improvement  in  my 
darling  study.  It  would  be  mere  affectation  (which  I 
destest)  were  I  not  ingenuously  to  confess  that  I  think 
I  had,  from  my  birth,  a  genius  for  painting,  which  in 
my  own  opinion  was  evidently  proved  by  the  early 
love  I  showed  towards  the  art,  notwithstanding  my 
father,  good  man,  never  would  give  me  the  least  en- 
couragement in  such  a  notion;  for  although  he  was  a 
wise  man  in  many  respects,  yet  it  seemed  to  me  that 
he  had  too  much  of  the  dry  philosopher  about  him, 
and  did  not  think  it  consistent  with  prudence  to  trust 
any  thing  to  the  risk  of  fortune  or  chance,  if  it  were 
possible  to  avoid  it,  and  with  whatever  eagerness  I 
urged  my  claims  to  eminence  in  the  art,  he  still  an- 
swered coldly,  insisted  on  its  being  a  very  precarious 
undertaking,  and  said  that  none  but  such  as  were  by 
nature  blessed  with  uncommon  abilities  would  succeed 
in  it;  adding  that  he  should  much  rather  see  me  a 
good  honest  shoemaker,  as  that  was  a  safe  and  sure 
maintenance,  since  every  body  at  some  time  or  other 
must  be  in  want  of  good  shoes,  but  that  nobody  at  any 

*  Originally  addressed  to  the  Artist. 


II.  LETTER  FROM  A  DISAPPOINTED  GENIUS.    131 

time  would  be  in  want  of  bad  pictures.  All  this 
pithy  advice  sounded  in  my  ears  little  better  than 
folly  or  ignorance  It  was  still  a  fixed  thing  in  my 
own  mind  that  Iliad  a  genius,  and  drawing  was  my 
only  delight,  which  he  called  idling;  indeed  it  might 
to  him  have  that  appearance,  for  I  must  honestly  con- 
fess that  I  always  felt  an  aversion  to  every  thing 
which  was  given  me  to  do  as  a  task,  and  instead  of 
trying  to  write  a  good  round  hand,  or  to  cast  up  a 
sum  in  arithmetic,  I  generally  spent  the  time  in 
scrawling  figures  and  lanscapes  on  my  copy-book. 
Whenever  a  strolling  painter  came  into  the  town,  I 
was  sure  to  be  his  constant  follower,  greatly  to  the 
displeasure  of  my  father,  who  generally  checked  my 
ardour  by  dryly  saying,  ^^  Hold!  hold!  this  intimacy 
will  end  in  his  borrowing  money  of  me,  and  then  we 
must  take  the  debt  out  in  pictures,  or  get  nothing, 
which  is  the  same  thing."  You  may  conceive  how  all 
this  sounded  in  my  ears. — That  genius  should  be 
thus  treated! — All  my  friends  and  acquaintance  per- 
severed in  their  opinion  of  my  wonderful  talents,  and 
although  my  father  would  not  take  their  word,  I  did. 
I  therefore  grew  impatient,  and  determined  to  take  the 
first  opportunity  of  quitting  his  house,  whether  with  or 
without  his  consent,  being  fully  convinced  that  I 
should  make  my  name  illustrious  in  the  art.  Accord- 
ingly on  a  fine  May  morning  I  set  out  for  London, 
filled  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  and  elated 
with  my  ideal  prospects  of  future  success. 

As  I  approached  the  great  city,  which  I  had  never 
seen,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  trod  on  the  clouds,  and 
was  at  the  entrance  of  Paradise;  however,  when  in 
Xondon,  I  had  powerful  competitors  to  encounter,  and 
I  found  rayselt  in  the  state  of  the  harper  in  the  fable, 
who,  after  having  been  the  wonder  of  his  native  town, 
was  astonished  at  being  hissed  off  the  London  stage. 
Nevertheless,  1  persisted  undismayed,  and  now  re- 
solved to  become  a  portrait-painter. 

But  here  also  I  soon  found  a  considerable  differ 
ence  ia  the  face  of  the  world  towards  me :  At  my 


133  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

fathers  house,  wliere  I  had  never  offered  my  works 
for  sale,  I  had  been  used  to  have  the  most  excessive 
praises  bestowed  on  my  performances,  for  that  cost  the 
doners  nothing;  but  now,  as  I  was  to  be  paid  for 
them,  the  case  was  materially  altered,  since  all  who 
came  had  a  right  to  speak  their  mind,  and  to  examine 
sharply  whetiier  they  had  got  an  equivalent  for  their 
money.  I  took  care  always  to  make  my  likenesses 
uncommonly  strong, — they  sometimes  perhaps  bor- 
dered a  little  on  caricatura,  which  occasioned  my 
being  often  told  they  were  not  handsome  enough ;  and 
not  unfrequently  even  the  likeness  was  disputed,  and 
all  that  I  could  say  in  my  own  behalf  went  for 
nothing :  it  was  only  lost  labour  for  me  to  assert  that 
it  was  impossible  for  resemblances  to  be  stronger, 
even  if  Raffaelle  himself  had  drawn  them ;  no  one 
would  take  my  word,  and  I  was  obliged  to  submit 
patiently  to  have  it  proved  by  a  very  severe,  and  as  I 
thought,  a  very  unjust  trial,  as  it  was  carried  on  be- 
fore a  numerous  jury,  of  whom  many  were  certainly 
not  my  Peers,  and  yet  1  was  not  allowed  the  power  of 
challenging  a  single  one  amongst  them.  The  portrait 
I  had  drawn  was  to  stand  the  test  of  being  known  and 
approved  of,  not  only  by  the  employer,  but  also  by  a 
long  train  of  sycophant  followers ;  to  wit,  ignorant 
affected  ladies'  maids,  humble,  flattering,  dependant 
cousins,  nursery- maids  both  wet  and  dry,  new  born 
babes  and  favourite  dogs ;  and  if  all  these  did  not  give 
a  verdict  in  my  favour,  my  work  was  left  upon  my 
hands,  and  my  employers  became  my  inveterate 
enemies,  with  as  much  rage  against  me  as  if  I  had 
made  their  own  persons  as  hideous  as  they  said  I  had 
made  their  pictures :  indeed  they  told  me  I  had  given, 
it  under  my  hand  that  they  were  so. 

I  now  despaired  of  succeeding  in  this  line,  and 
began  to  grow  weary  of  my  life ;  yet  something  was  to 
be  done  for  a  livelihood.  I  therefore  looked  about,  in 
hopes  of  hitting  on  some  new  invention,  by  which  I 
might  yet  captivate  the  world  :  but  this  was  a  diflBcult 
matter;  for  every  thing  I  could  think  of  appeared  to 


il.  LETTER  FROM  A  DISAPPOINTED  GENIUS.   133 

have  been  done  already.  At  one  time  I  thought  of 
painting  with  my  toes  instead  of  my  fingers,  as  such 
an  essay  at  a  striking  novelty  would  have  been  a  sure 
means  of  bringing  all  London  at  my  feet,  and  my 
heart  leaped  for  joy  when  the  thought  came  first  into 
my  head.  I  reflected  with  delight  that  I  was  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  be  in  that  country  and  in  that  very  city,  so 
eminently  known  above  all  others  in  the  world  for 
their  liberal  and  splendid  encouragement  of  quacke- 
ries (»f  every  species,  and  my  elated  heart  made  me 
look  down  with  contempt  on  all  the  other  schemes  of 
making  pictures,  whether  in  silks,  in  worsted,  in  wool, 
with  bits  of  coloured  rags,  marble  dust,  sand,  or  a  hot 
poker.  These  had  passed  their  day  and  were  for- 
gotten, having  been  pushed  from  their  places  to  make 
way  for  newer  wonders.  But  tiiere  was  one  sorrowful 
obstacle  to  the  completion  of  my  scheme,  which  was, 
that  some  little  time  was  requisite  for  acquiring  the 
proper  practice;  though  I  knew  a  very  moderate 
degree  would  have  been  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  eager 
curiosity  of  an  idle  multitude,  glad  to  catch  at  any 
means  by  whicJi  they  may  get  rid  of  themselves  and  a 
tedious  hour:  but  as  I  was  actually  without  either 
money  or  credit,  I  had  great  apprehensions  that  I 
should  have  run  the  hazard  of  being  starved  in  my 
novitiate,  and  this  fear  alone  made  me  give  up  the 
scheme  altogether,  to  my  no  small  mortification. 

My  next  determination  was  to  become  the  inventor 
of  the  Venetian  ground,  on  board  and  on  canvas,  by 
which  means  every  painter  should  be  enabled  to  paint 
exactly  like  Titian ;  and  thus,  like  most  other  teachers, 
I  boldly  proposed  to  point  out  that  road  to  others, 
which  I  had  not  been  able  to  find  myself. 

This  lucky  hit  for  a  time  proved  very  successful, 
and  I  was  employed  to  prepare  canvas  for  some  of  the 
high  painters  in  town  ^  but  fortune  soon  left  me  again 
in  tlie  lurch,  for  in  a  short  space  of  time  some  of  the 
pictures  which  had  been  painted  on  my  grounds  be- 
caaie  exceedingly  cracked,  and  others  fell  piecemeal 
from  the  canvas  5  so  that  I  have  been  informed,  that  the 

3  p 


i31  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

house-inaids  used  to  bcslow  cur;«es  on  the  painter  for 
dirtying  the  rooms  with  his  dropjjin^  pictures.  But 
tliat  which  gave  tlie  finishing  blow  to  my  credit  in 
this  line  of  Art,  was  an  accident  that  happened  to  a 
portrait  which  had  l)cen  painted  by  a  very  celebrated 
artist  on  one  of  my  primed  grounds.  It  was  hung 
over  the  chimney  of  a  very  close  warm  room,  and 
from  the  great  heat,  the  ground  became  soft  to  such  a 
degree,  tliat  the  eye  floated  down  t4ie  face  as  low  as 
the  mouth  ;  and  really  I  must  own  that  it  quite 
spoiled  the  likeness.* 

I  next  professed  myself  a  picture-cleaner,  having 
an  invaluable  nostrum  for  this  purpose,  which  was  im- 
parted to  me  by  a  friend.  But  having  had  a  picture  by 
Vandyke,  of  some  value,  intrusted  to  my  care,  I  un- 
fortunately, from  ignorance  in  the  method  of  using  my 
nostrum,  nearly  rubbed  it  out,  and  lost  the  skin  from 
the  tops  of  my  fingers  into  the  bargain.  This  hurt  my 
character  so  mucii,  that  I  could  not  get  any  one  to 
trust  me  with  another  job,  for  I  had  neither  the  wit 
nor  the  knavery  to  paint  over  again  those  parts  which 
I  had  cleaned  away,  as  then  I  should  have  stood  a 
good  chance  of  delighting  my  employer,  and  making 
him  think  the  picture  much  better  than  ever  it  had 
been;  but,  when  I  showed  him  the  canvas  quite  bare, 
he  dismissed  me  with  rage. 

I  was  now  driven  to  such  streigljts,  that  the  Arch- 
fiend, who  they  say,  never  sleeps,  took  the  opportunity 
of  my  distress  to  tempt  me  to  become  a  dealer  in 
pictures;  but,  thank  Heaven,  I  was  able  to  resist  him, 
for  I  had  always  a  spirit  far  above  such  a  traffic,  and 
I  am  happy  in  this  place  to  declare,  that,  in  all  the 
melancholy  hours  of  my  frequent  distress  from  cold 
and  hunger,  even  when  driven  from  my  lodging  and 
my  bed  to  the  street  and  a  bulk,  (not  being  able  to  pay 
my  rent,)  I  have  never  yielded  to  the  temptation;  but 
although  guilty  of  many  sins,  I  have  kept  my  hands 

*  A  safer  method  of  preparing  grounds  and  suitable  colours, 
has  lately  been  rewarded  by  the  Society  of  Arts  with  a  premium 
of  twenty  guineas,  and  their  silver  medal. 


II.  LETTER  FROM  A  DISAPPOINTED  GENIUS.   135 

clean  from  that  business,  and  I  hope  they  will  so 
remain  to  my  life's  end,  and  be  laid  unspotted  in  my 
grave,  for  I  am  a  true  born  Englishman,  and  a  lover 
of  my  country.  But  I  am  apt  to  think  that  Satan, 
because  he  could  not  prevail,  has  owed  me  a  grudge 
ever  since,  and,  in  consequence,  has  reduced  me  to 
such  a  state  of  misery,  Ihat  I  was  glad  to  catch  at  a 
shadow,  and  have  now  taken  to  drawing  profiles  by 
lamp-light,  and  cutting  them  out  in  paper  and  blacking 
them  over  with  ink  or  black-ball;  and  by  these  means 
at  present  I  pick  up  a  precarious  liveliiiood.  But,  after 
all,  my  good  father's  words  come  frequently  to  ray  mind, 
when  he  used  to  say,  that  all  the  world  at  times  want 
shoes;  which  is  precisely  my  own  case  at  this  present 
moment,  and  for  which  reason  I  am  not  able  to  come 
out  of  doors,  especially  in  wet  weather.  Dear  Mr. 
Artist,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  lend  me  a  two- 
pound  note,  on  my  honor  as  a  painter,  and  therefore 
a  gentleman  (although  without  shoes,)  I  will  honest- 
ly pay  you  again  from  the  profits  of  the  very  first 
shadows  I  can  catch. 

1  shall  not  disclose  my  name,  (for  indeed  I  have, 
from  necessity,  been  obliged  to  adopt  so  many,  tliat  I 
now  scarcely  know  which  was  the  original  one,)  but 
shall  sign  myself,  as  before,  by  that  which  I  know  is 
my  right, 

Your's,  &c.,  &c., 

A  Disappointed  Genius. 


ON  THE 

IMITATION  OF  THE  STAGE 

IN  PAINTING. 


Quo  spectanda  modo,  quo  sensu  ? 


In  a  former  paper  it  has  been  my  endeavour  to 
point  out  some  of  the  evil  consequences  that  might 
ensue  to  the  Student  in  Painting,  from  his  not  having 
a  proper  conception  how  highly  important  it  is  to  him, 
that  he  should  look  up  to  nature  as  the  great  arche- 
type and  the  source  of  all  truth.  In  that  paper  I 
dwelt  chiefly  on  the  danger  of  his  being  led  away  by 
Poetry:  I  shall  now  finish  my  subject  by  a  few  ob- 
servations also  on  the  hazard  of  his  imitating  the 
Stage. 

Young  minds,  from  their  inexperience,  are  prone  to 
be  captivated  with  all  such  appearances  as  are  most 
palpable  to  the  senses,  and  it  requires  time  and  nice 
observation  to  enable  them  to  select  and  discriminate 
those  higher  beauties,  which  the  more  mature  mind, 
expects  and  demands  from  any  work  of  Art  that 
attempts  to  gain  its  approbation. 

The  young  Student  in  Painting,  perhaps,  may 
view  with  astonishment  and  delight  the  expression  of 
the  passions  on  the  Stage,  and  think  this^^ppy  even 


138  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

preferable  to  the  original  in  Nature  itself,  because  it  is 
more  obtrusive  and  glaring,  and  he  may,  therefore, 
conceive  it  needless  to  seek  for  better  models  as  ex- 
amples. 

It  is  true  that  Ihe  Stage  offers  him  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  the  representations  of  awful  situations, 
which  he  may  never  obtain  a  sight  of  in  nature.  But 
it  behoves  him  to  examine  carefully  whether  this  be  a 
true  portrait  of  nature,  or  not ;  as  well  as  to  consider 
also  the  great  distinction  which  exists,  of  necessity, 
between  a  theatrical  representation  and  a  picture : 
there  certainly  are  some  important  and  fundamental 
differences;  for  notwithstanding  that  they  are,  each  of 
them,  imitations  of  nature,  yet  they  are  shewn  under 
very  different  circumstances. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  Painter  can  repre- 
sent only  one  moment  of  time,  yet  the  picture  may 
remain  long  before  your  eye,  and  thus  enable  you  to 
investigate  its  merits  or  defects  with  the  most  critical 
exactness :  therefore  the  highest  delicacies  of  expres- 
sion may  be  given  without  the  least  risk  of  the  most 
subtile  beauties  being  overlooked.  He  has  also  an  un- 
limited power  over  the  persons  of  his  drama,  so  as 
to  suit  them  to  the  characters  they  represent,  in  every 
requisite.  But  the  actor,  not  having  these  advantages, 
must  supply  the  deficiency  by  violent  and  decided 
gestures,  actions,  and  expressions  of  the  countenance, 
such  as  may  be  seen  and  understood  at  all  distances, 
and  by  all  the  various  capacities  that  compose  his 
audience;  and,  in  as  much  as  his  voice  is  raised  above 
all  common  modes  of  speaking,  so  his  expression  of 
tlie  passions  and  their  actions,  may  be  carried  beyond 
all  common  modes  of  expression  or  action,  and  this 
may  be  at  times  an  excuse  for  his  out-stepping  the 
modesty  of  Nature,  as  Shakspeare  terms  it,  which  he 
sometimes  does.  But  the  Painter  has  no  such  motives 
to  check  his  highest  attempts  at  refinement;  his  work 
is  to  remain  long  for  examination,  and  for  the  dis- 
covery of  all  those  excellencies  which  may  be  shewn 
ia  it  of  expression,  character,  situation,  and  action. 


IMITATION  OF  THE  STAGE  IN  PAINTING.    13<J 

together  with  all  those  effects  of  refined  and  deep 
observation  on  nature,  which  are  characteristic  marks 
in  the  works  of  the  greatest  masters  of  the  art. 

These  refinements,  if  the  Actor  could  exhibit  them, 
would  be  of  too  delicate  a  nature  to  be  discerned  under 
the  circumstances  with  which  representations  on  the 
Stage  are  seen;  and  for  this  reason  they  would  be  in 
danger  of  appearing  insipid,  and  his  character  under- 
acted. The  ancients  seemed  so  sensible  of  this,  that 
to  avoid  the  error  here  mentioned^  tliey  are  said  to 
have  run  into  the  contrary  extreme,  if  it  be  true,  as 
some  of  the  learned  antiquarians  suppose,  that  tlieir 
stage  representations  were  performed  with  actions  the 
most  violent^  the  expressions  of  the  passions  in  the 
face  supplied  by  the  distortions  of  a  mask,  and  the 
voice  assisted  by  a  species  of  speaking-trumpet,  or 
some  such  artifice.  By  an  exhibition  like  this,  the 
Painter,  to  be  sure,  would  be  in  no  danger  of  being 
led  astray,  for  here  was  nothing  of  nature  to  inform 
or  to  allure  him ;  yet  I  cannot  but  repeat  in  tliis  place 
the  apprehension  I  have  before  expressed,  respecting 
the  hazard  which  attends  on  a  bigoted  and  indiscrimi- 
nate admiration  of  any  model  to  be  found  in  the  circle 
of  art:  for,  although  the  Painter  might  not  be  in 
danger  of  being  led  away  by  a  scene  which  offered  to 
his  view  so  awkward  a  spectacle  as  that  above  de- 
scribed, yet  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  this  rude,  im- 
mense yet  despicable.  Stage  was  destined  to  exhibit 
scenes  conceived  by  men  endowed  with  powers  of  the 
first  magnitude,  illustrious  geniuses  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  conforming  their  w  orks  to  the  barrenness 
of  their  theatrical  apparatus;  and  that,  notwithstand- 
ing they  were  unable  to  display  the  full  extent  of 
their  powers  in  this  limited  scenery,  still  the  dazzling 
splendour  of  their  invention  has  so  blinded  succeed- 
ing critics,  that  those  bigoted  devotees,  unable  in  the 
heat  of  their  admiration  to  distinguish  that  which  was 
praiseworthy  from  that  which  was  defective,  have  mis- 
taken those  accidental  accommodations  contrived  by 
the  poets  to  adapt  their  works  to  the  scanty  means  of 


140  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

stage  eifect,  and  construed  them  into  beauties,  have 
boldly  drawn  rules  from  the  whole  together,  and 
delivered  them  down  to  posterity  as  laws,  which  pro- 
ceeded from  infallible  guides,  for  all  succeeding 
dramatists,  and  as  excellence  fit  for  everlasting  imita- 
tion. This  instance  alone  may  serve  as  an  awful  ex- 
ample to  shew  how  careful  we  ought  to  be,  both  as 
professors  and  critics,  that,  whilst  we  admire,  we 
should  be  very  circumspect  to  make  the  just  distinc- 
tion and  separation  between  that  which  is  the  proper 
object  of  our  admiration,  and  that  which  is  its  acciden- 
tal accompaniment,  and  w  hich  may  be,  and  often  is,  a 
drawback  on  its  merit.  This,  however,  is  not  so  easy 
a  task  as  at  first  it  seems,  and  many  a  young  student 
has  been  ruined  and  made  a  mannerist  from  the  want 
of  this  very  power  of  discrimination,  since  we  have 
seen  that  the  splendour  of  certain  excellences  often  so 
deludes  the  judgment,  that  the  whole  mass  is  received 
together  as  the  entire  model  of  perfection.  How  fre- 
quently do  we  hear  the  young  practitioner  in  painting 
bestow  an  equal  praise  on  the  w  ork  of  a  great  master 
for  that  which  he  has  not  done,  as  for  that  which  he 
has,  and  how  frequently  is  he  apt  to  think  himself 
thereby  excused  in  not  doing  well  those  things  which 
he  does  not  find  adequately  accomplished  in  the 
work,  which  is  the  object  of  his  study !  Instances  of  a 
similar  kind,  as  I  have  before  remarked,  we  find 
clearly  exemplified  in  those  modern  dramatic  authors, 
(and  some  of  them  not  mean  ones  neither,)  w  ho,  over- 
come by  the  captivating  genius  of  the  ancient  drama- 
tists, and  without  taking  into  consideration  the  embar- 
rassed state  to  which  they  were  reduced  by  the  neces- 
sities of  their  Stage,  have  therefore  slavishly  imitated 
all  their  accidental  defects  as  if  they  were  the  great- 
est beauties. 

It  was  the  apprehension  of  this  dangerous  kind  of 
bigotry  whicii  made  Nicolas  Poussin  say  of  Pietro  da 
Cortona  that  he  w  as  born  into  the  world  to  be  the 
ruin  of  Art,  because  the  splendour  of  his  beauties 
eclipsed  egregious  defects  j  and  of  the  latter  it  is  that 


IMITATION  OF  THE  STAGE  IN  PAINTING.     14i 

the  imitator  carries  off  the  largest  share,  because  the 
excellencies  of  an  original  genius,  as  they  are  pro- 
duced by  the  force  of  his  own  nature,  are  always 
inimitable. 

Under  a  similar  infatuation,  the  Painter,  in  his 
admiration  of  the  merits  of  some  favourite  actor,  might 
blindly  take  too  large  a  portion  of  the  individual  for 
his  model :  and  we  often  see  instances,  even  amongst 
the  works  of  great  masters,  where  they  Iiave  made  a 
favourite  individual,  either  a  mistress  or  wife,  the  sole 
model  for  their  highest  efforts  towards  giving  an  ex- 
ample of  the  most  perfect  beauty. 

There  is  a  natural  bias  in  mankind,  which  inclines 
them  to  imitate  that  which  they  admire,  and  is  the 
principal  cause  that  we  so  often  have  occasion  to 
remark  in  Poets,  Players,  and  Painters,  &c.  a  pro- 
pensity towards  copying,  or  being  of  the  scliool,  as  I 
may  say,  of  some  native  genius  of  each  class:  but  this 
is  an  ill  omen,  a  dangerous  state;  because,  in  the  end, 
it  will  produce  what  we  call  a  mannerist.  If  this 
practice  be  a  means  to  strengthen  the  weak,  it  Will 
surely  enfeeble  the  strong,  and  is  not  the  way  to  be 
on  a  par  in  value  with  the  object  of  their  admiration. 

Those  favourites  of  Nature,  whom  she  has  endowed 
with  superior  talents,  display  an  essence  in  all  their 
efforts,  which  is  able  to  bid  defiance  to  imitation,  and 
keeps  it  ever  at  a  humble  distance  ;  we  can  copy  only 
their  grossness,  the  obvious  quality,  but  none  of  that 
indescribable  zest  which  gives  the  whole  its  value  and 
power  to  delight. 

The  mimic  of  genius  is  like  the  monkey  to  tlia 
man ;  there  is  a  rude  superficial  similitude,  l)ut  the 
action  is  without  its  proper  motive  or  its  use :  although 
its  general  effect  to  the  eye  may  be  something  alike, 
yet  the  cause  is  totally  different,  which  renders  it 
useless;  you  may  imitate  the  external  action  and 
manners  of  a  wise  man,  but  that  is  neither  being  wise, 
nor  t!ie  way  to  become  so. 

A  splendid  display  of  high  art  is  so  captivating, 
that,  jit  (lie  same  time  that  it  is  a  lesson,  it  is  but  too 

3   Q 


1,4a  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

apt  also  to  delude  the  unwary;  and  it  becomes  a  diffi- 
culty that  demands  the  utmost  exertion  of  judgment, 
to  disentangle  and  separate  the  part,  which  might  be 
of  service,  from  that  whicli  might  be  prejudicial  as  an 
example.  We  have  seen  this  error  of  dehision  demon- 
strated in  most  eminent  instances,  in  what  we  may  call 
the  late  school  of  French  painters,  who,  evidently, 
instead  of  looking  at  nature  as  their  guide,  assisted 
themselves  almost  entirely  from  the  poets  and  the 
stage,  which  has  given  lo  all  their  historical  paintings 
of  that  period  the  exact  air  of  a  scene  in  an  opera. 
Enamoured  by  the  artificial  spectacle,  which  seemed 
a  picture  already  done  to  their  hands,  they  believed 
they  had  thus  a  much  more  easy  means  by  which  to 
make  the  arrangement  of  their  pictures,  than  by 
searching  out  and  selecting  the  refined  and  subtile 
beauties  in  the  stores  of  nature :  they  thus  took  that 
which  was  most  obvious  to  them  and  came  first  to 
liand,  not  giving  themselves  the  trouble  to  examine 
into  the  difterence  between  this  fabricated  mass  and 
nature  unadorned,  or  to  investigate  the  reason  why  an 
opera  has  such  charms ; — that  it  was  solely  from  its 
being  a  combination  of  the  most  exquisite  art,  which 
a  little  consideration  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
have  informed  them  of,  had  they  not  been  too  idle  to 
examine  or  analyse  it,  and  to  convince  themselves 
that  it  is  too  far  removed  from  nature  to  answer  the 
painter's  purpose. 

The  remark  is  obvious  to  all,  that,  when  you  see 
an  opera  performed,  your  whole  attention  is  taken  up 
by  the  excellence  of  the  composition  of  the  music,  and 
of  its  various  performers.  The  circumstances  of  the 
Drama,  or  the  fate  of  the  personages  it  represents, 
engage  but  a  very  small  part  of  your  interest,  nor  is  it 
designed  that  they  should  attract  a  greater:  the  little 
of  nature  which  is  there  displayed,  is  moulded  to 
serve  a  particular  purpose,  and  therefore  will  neither 
create  nor  gain  your  sympathy ;  your  whole  attention 
is  taken  up  in  admiration  and  pleasure  in  the  contem- 
plation of  fine  art.   I  have  already  remarked,  that  it 


IMITATION  OF  THE  STAGE    IN  PAINTING    143 

is  considerably  the  same  iti  poetry,  which  is  high  art 
engrafted  on  the  stem  of  nature;  but  the  art  still  pre- 
dominates, and  is  so  intended ;  and  I  might  add,  that 
an  equal  caution  may  be  applied  in  regard  to  Painting, 
when  proposed  as  the  example  for  any  other  art;  but 
such  a  remark  is  here  unnecessary. 

As  a  general  rule  it  may  be  remarked,  that,  by  as 
much  as  you  see  the  artifice  obtrude  or  prevail^  by  so 
much  it  diminishes  that  iaterest  which  ought  to  be  tiie 
first  and  predominating  quality  of  every  work  wliicli 
aspires  to  be  a  representation  of  fine  nature. 

It  is  a  well  known  observatiou,  that  when  you  read 
fine  poetry,  you  think  of  and  admire  the  genius  of  the 
author;  but  when  you  read  the  simple  liistory  or 
relation  of  a  fact,  you  are  absorbed  and  interested  by 
the  narration  only,  and  never  once  think  of  the  relator., 
because  in  the  first  case  it  is  the  art  which  prevails 
and  catches  your  attention,  in  the  last  it  is  only  simple 
nature  which  creates  the  highest  interest.  The  student 
of  painting,  therefore,  should  never  suffer  his  mind, 
which  ought  to  range  at  large,  to  be  fettered  by  any 
bigoted  adoration  of  another's  work;  but  should  con- 
sider the  dignity  of  the  art  which  he  professes,  and 
the  extent  of  its  powers,  and  that  all  nature  is  before 
him  and  courts  his  choice. 

Never  rest  content  with  the  word  of  another  when 
you  can  have  free  access  to  the  fountain  of  all  truth. 

Yet  after  all  that  I  have  said,  let  me  not  be  misun- 
derstood. I  well  know  that,  to  form  the  mind  of  an 
accomplished  painter,  every  possible  knowledge  would 
assist;  instruction  should  be  received  and  cherished 
from  whatever  quarter  it  may  chance  to  come,  and 
poetry,  painting,  and  the  stage,  will  each  afford  their 
ample  lessons  when  judiciously  surveyed,  and  not 
held  up  in  our  minds  above  their  rank  or  value. 

It  is  the  characteristic  quality  of  genius  to  compre- 
hend  much  at  one  view.  By  means  of  that  quality 
alone  it  is  that  we  can  justly  ascertain  the  true  com- 
parative worth  or  importance  of  things,  as  the  reverse 
is  conspicuously  discoverable  in  persons  of  narrow 


144  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

intellect,  who  viewing  every  object  with  a  microscopic 
eye,  see  small  things  great,  with  a  disproportionate 
effect;  and  to  this  cause  it  is  owing  that  in  all  the 
imitative  arts,  poetry,  painting,  &c.  we  so  commonly 
perceive  parts  only  of  a  work  well  done,  and  not  of  a 
piece  with  the  rest,  nor  in  harmony  with  the  general 
effect  of  tlie  work. 

To  make  an  union  in  the  whole  together,  to  give  it 
.  the  appearance  of  a  work  done  by  that  presiding 
power  which  sees  the  whole,  while  executing  each 
particular  part,  is  the  grand  excellence  and  difficulty 
of  art.  AVhen  this  can  be  accomplished,  it  proves 
beyond  all  doubt  the  mind  of  genius  and  the  master's 
hand. 


ADVICE 

TO  A  YOUNG  ARTIST. 


It  seems  to  be  inherent  in  the  nature  of  mankind, 
and  more  particularly  at  the  period  of  youth,  when 
we  first  enter  on  the  busy  stage  of  life,  to  be  possessed 
with  a  much  higher  notion  of  our  own  importance, 
abilities,  and  claims  on  fortune,  than  we  find  to  be 
justified  by  subsequent  events.  And  although  this 
presumption  may  be  a  powerful  incitement  to  great 
actions  in  early  life,  yet  as  the  truth  will  be  disclosed 
by  degrees,  and  harsh  experience  will  every  day  teach 
us  how  much  less  wise,  and  how  mucli  less  fortunate 
we  are,  than  vanity  had  promised  and  led  us  to  sup- 
pose, bitter  mortification  must  be  the  unavoidable  con- 
sequence of  such  self  delusion. 

To  prevent  the  evils  incident  to  those  who  being 
deficient  in  a  knowledge  of  the  world,  are  thus  apt  to 
frame  their  conduct  upon  mistaken  notions  both  of 
themselves  and  human  life,  such  precautions  and 
admonitions  should  be  given  to  them,  and  such  ex- 
amples pointed  out,  as  will  best  supply  the  place  of 
that  experience,  which  seldom  comes  to  instruct  us 
till  it  is  too  late  to  gain  any  advantage  from  its  hard- 
earned  lessons. 

None  can  be  taught  too  early  to  know  what  they 
have  to  expect,  or  on  what  they  are  to  depend. 

Considerations  like  these  induce  me  to  say,  that  if 
happiness  be  the  lot  of  a  painter,  he  will  most  com- 
monly find  the  blessing,  like  the  religious  devotee,  in 
the  solitary  enjoyment  of  his  own  thoughts,  in  the 


146  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

delightful  reveries  of  a  mind  ever  teeming  with  images 
which  play  on  the  fancy  in  infinite  varieties.  To  im- 
part these  conceptions  to  tlie  world,  must  be  his  first 
aim  and  highest  gratification;  and  by  succeeding,  he 
will  transform  his  lal)our  into  pleasure.  For  let  if  be 
remembered  that  he  who  devotes  himself  to  study,  will 
be  obliged  to  make  frequent  sacrifices  at  its  altar,  and 
must  be  prepared  to  sulier,  with  patience,  both  wants 
and  privations.  If  he  cannot  command  sufficient 
resolution  to  meet  this  arduous  slate,  it  were  better  for 
him  to  leave  the  Fine  tirts  to  be  encountered  by  those 
of  abler  minds  and  stronger  nerves,  and  not  expect 
(as  a  late  great  writer  expresses  it  on  another  occasion) 
to  be  dandled  into  an  artist.  Eminence  is  not  to  be 
gained  whether  you  will  or  no:  superiority  is  not  of 
easy  acquisition  where  all  are  striving  to  be  the  most 
excellent. 

Few  are  aware  of  the  hidden  cause,  which  but  too 
often  obtrudes  its  influence  to  determine  their  choice 
of  a  profession,  and  still  fewer  would  brook  being  told 
that  it  was  idleness,  or  perhaps  vanity  alone. 

In  all  those  professions  which  chiefly  attract  the 
gaze  of  youth,  these  view  at  a  distance  the  eminent 
only,  who  seem  to  them  to  be  surrounded  by  an  al- 
luring and  bewitching  splendour  to  which  they  find 
that  the  rich  and  even  the  powerful  pay  homage.  For 
instance,  successful  poets,  painters,  players,  warriors, 
captivate  the  inexperienced  and  aspiring  candidate  for 
fame,  and  there  are  few  amongst  the  young,  of  any 
spirit,  who  have  not  fixed  upon  one  of  those  favorite 
objects,  as  the  idol  of  their  emulation,  and  gaily  joined 
the  poet's  song, 

«<  What  shall  I  do  to  be  for  ever  known 
And  make  the  coming  age  my  own  ?" 

while  the  safe,  though  obscure  occupations  of  commoa 
life  are  treated  by  tliem  with  scorn :  for  no  suspicion 
of  inability  has  ever  alarmed  them  with  a  doubt  of 
success. 


ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  ARTIST.  14,7 

No  whispers  of  experience  have  ever  informed 
theni  of  the  toils  and  difficulties  which  must  be  en- 
countered, or  the  many  chances  that  must  concur  to 
produce  an  instance  of  distinguished  superiority:  their 
notice  has  been  attracted  by  those  alone  who  have 
gained  the  prize;  not  aware  of  the  thousands  that 
have  perished  in  the  attempt  and  are  forgotten;  nor 
suspecting  that  as  they  climb  the  mountains  there 
will  open  to  their  view  still  higher  mountains  to  be 
climbed. 

There  are  certain  employments  in  some  manu- 
factures so  baleful  to  the  human  species,  that  the  laws 
of  England,  framed  with  equal  wisdom  and  compas- 
sion, have  prohibited  the  proprietors  from  enticing 
persons  into  the  pernicious  work ;  and  none  but  such 
as  voluntarily  oifer  themselves  can  be  employed  in 
them.  The  same  restricting  rule  would  be  advantage- 
ous in  respect  to  the  arts  ;  none  should,  by  flattery, 
when  young,  be  deluded  by  weak  or  ill  judging  pat- 
rons to  undertake  that  in  which  they  are  probably  not 
qualified  by  nature  to  succeed.  It  would  be  much 
wiser  to  treat  them  as  a  kind  father  acted  by  his  son, 
when  he  expressed  an  eager  desire  to  devote  himself 
to  the  service  of  the  navy,  the  result,  perhaps  of  idle- 
ness, accident,  or  whims,  and  with  a  total,  ignorance 
of  the  kind  of  life  which  he  fixed  upon  as  the  object  of 
his  choice.  The  father  complied  with  his  request,  but 
at  the  same  time  gave  a  strict  injunction  to  the  com- 
manding officer,  not  to  screen  him  from  any,  even  the 
hardest  duties  of  his  profession;  as  by  this  means  he 
would  gain  experience  before  it  was  too  late  for  his 
profit;  and  should  his  mind,  after  the  trial,  continue 
unchanged,  his  choice  would  be  then  proved  to  be  an 
impulse  of  nature,  and  he  would  be  likely  to  do 
much  honor  to  himself  and  his  profession.  Thus  in 
the  arts  (indeed  in  every  department,)  he  who  knows 
the  worst  at  first,  and  still  persists  to  combat  all  the 
difficulties  in  his  way,  almost  insures  success:  as  it 
proves  in  him  the  possession  of  strength  of  that  raind, 
which  is  an  indispensable  requisite  towards  the  attain- 


1^8  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

ment  of  excellence.  It  is  the  true  spirit  of  emulation 
which  inspires  him.  He  will  not  content  himself  with  the 
little  ambition  of  surpassing  his  contemporaries  only, 
but  feels  it  a  duty  to  survey  the  works  of  all  men  in  all 
ages  and  in  all  countries :  nor  will  he  deign  to  con- 
gratulate himself  while  he  is  conscious  that  any  man 
before  him  has  accomplished  (hat  in  which  he  has 
been  foiled,  hut  will  perceive  himself  in  danger  of 
incurring  the  shame  and  disgrace  of  one  who  has 
arrogantly  engaged  to  perform  a  feat  beyond  his 
powers.  He  feels  that,  being  originally  at  liberty,  he 
might  have  avoided  the  contest;  but  having  made  his 
election,  he  is  no  longer  free  but  must  succeed,  or 
suffer  the  consequences  of  a  presumptuous  and  defeat- 
ed pretension. 

I  must  remark,  that  in  the  performance  of  .all  those 
works,  which  are  mere  superfluities  in  life,  and  not 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  well  being  of  mankind, 
and  which,  if  not  well  done,  need  not  be  done  at  all. 
a  mediocrity  of  performance  will  have  no  place,  will 
never  be  called  for:  and  the  pitiable  object,  who  fails 
in  the  arduous  enterprize,  Avill  soon  find  that  the  little 
ability  which  he  possessed,  will  of  course  be  dimi- 
nished, because  his  thoughts  must  necessarily  be 
employed,  not  on  his  art,  but  on  petty  contrivances,  to 
procure  the  means  of  a  precarious  maintenance;  and 
thus  he  skulks  through  life  by  shifts  and  expedients, 
in  want  and  discredit.  Innumerable  examples  have 
proved  the  profession  of  a  painter  to  be  difficult  of 
attainment,  and  uncertain  in  the  event,  even  when 
accompanied  with  excellence,  and  that  hundreds  must 
attempt  for  one  to  be  prosperous;  therefore  it  ought  to 
'be  clearly  ascertained,  that  its  votaries  and  followers 
are  real  lovers  of  the  study,  for  its  own  sake,  before 
they  are  permitted  to  espouse  it  for  life:  and  such 
prognostics  should  be  shewn  as  may  best  presage  suc- 
cess in  the  adventure.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
should,  with  jealousy,  beware  of  that  presumptuous 
confidence,  which  would  be  the  greatest  hindrance  to 
all  improvement,  by  closing  up  the  mind  in  its  self- 


ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  ARTIST.  149 

sufficiency,  and  putting  a  stop  to  all  inquiry,  Tijy  re- 
ducing it  to  rest  on  its  own  fancied  perfection. 

No  man  can  have  too  little  dependance  on  what  he 
possesses,  nor  too  much  on  his  ability  of  acquirement. 

He  who  is  determined  to  become  a  great  painter, 
should  consider  himself  as  ever  learning,  continually 
in  progress,  but  yet  as  one,  before  whose  persevering 
powers  all  difficulties  must  give  way;  as  by  this 
laudable  presumption,  or  rather  persuasion  of  his 
mind,  he  will  be  enabled  to  accomplish  that,  which 
he  would  otherwise  have  shrunk  from  as  impossible 
to  be  done.  He  must  strongly  feel  the  shame  of  not 
being  able  to  conquer  that,  which  he  knows  men,  like 
himself,  have  conquered.  He  should  consider  failure 
in  his  attempt,  as  worse  than  death  itself,  and,  when 
he  has  once  entered  on  his  career,  should  allow  him- 
self no  hope  of  retreat. 

A  singular  circumstance  occurs  to  my  mind,  which 
shows  what  resolution  like  this  may  accomplish.  A 
small  party  of  men  determined  to  surprize  and  capture 
the  strong  fortress  of  Panama,  and  to  prevent  alarm 
being  given  in  the  attack,  they  embarked  together  ia 
one  small  boat,  encountering  all  the  dangers  of  a  dark 
and  stormy  night.  Before  they  got  on  shore,  or  made 
good  their  landing,  it  was  agreed  among  them,  that 
the  man  who  last  left  the  boat,  should  stave  a  hole  in 
its  bottom :  this  done,  and  hope  of  retreat  being  de- 
stroyed, to  conquer  or  to  die,  was  their  only  choice: 
then  clambering  up  a  steep  precipice,  before  consid- 
ered as  the  side  on  which  the  fortress  was  inaccessi- 
ble, they  reached  the  summit,  seized  the  sentinels  by 
surprize,  and  soon  possessed  themselves  of  the  panic- 
struck  garrison,  by  whom  no  resistance  was  attempted. 
Thus,  by  determination  and  resolution,  the  place  was 
taken  without  a  blow,  although  well  furnished  with 
every  requisite  for  defence  and  support;  and  this 
heroic  act  was  accomplished  by  the  sole  prowess  of 
about  twelve  determined  men.  Hence,  we  see,  that  no 
one  can  make  a  just  estimate  of  his  powers,  till  he  is 
urged,  by  imperious  necessity,  to  bring  them  to  the 

S  R 


150  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

proof.  He  takes  a  double  chance  to  conquer,  who  sets 
out  with  a  determination  not  to  be  conquered.  There 
arc  heroes  in  the  closet  as  well  as  in  the  field.  That 
man  is  a  hero,  whatever  may  be  his  department  in  life, 
who  defies  all  obstructions  to  accomplish  a  laudable 
purpose,  and  ultimately  overcomes  them.  Heroism 
may  as  clearly  be  displayed  in  the  pursuit  o;  the  arts, 
of  science,  and  philosophy,  as  in  the  instances  of 
statesmen,  warriors,  or  martyrs.  Heroism  is  proved 
by  unabating  ardour,  and  firm  adherence  to  the  end 
proposed :  it  leaves  nothing  unattempted,  which  curi- 
osity, research,  labour,  or  courage  may  acquire.  How 
did  Raifaelle,  iiaving  never  executed  a  work  of  any 
consequence  or  magnitude,  boldly  enter Ihe  Vatican, 
and  at  once  undertake  to  encounter  the  highest  diffi- 
culties of  the  art !  Thus,  alone,  he  took  the  lion  by  the 
beard. 

Yet,  it  must  be  observed,  that  with  all  those  quali- 
ties which  a  painter  must  possess,  in  order  to  eD<?ble 
him  to  surmount  every  difficulty  of  his  arduous  under- 
taking, and  to  support  himself  under  all  the  variety  of 
checks,  disappointments,  and  disasters  in  life,  it  is 
requisite  that  he  should,  in  addition  to  all  these,  have 
what  seenis  almost  incompatible  with  them,  tliat  is,  a 
mind  and  heart  of  the  most  susceptible  nature.  The 
painter's  imagination  should  act  with  more  than  usual 
power.  His  hopes,  his  fears,  his  joys,  his  mortifica- 
tions, must  be  felt  with  double  force.  He  should  have 
such  a  tenderness  of  sensibility,  as  to  receive  and  feel 
every  impression  on  his  mind,  with  all  the  energy  of 
poetic  fire;  for  who  can  paint  what  he  never  felt? 

How  is  it  possible,  that  works  which  display  ideas, 
exalted  or  sublime,  should  attract  the  attention  of 
minds,  coarse,  trifling  or  vulgar?  The  mind  acts  like 
a  magnet,  when  thrown  amidst  a  quantity  of  mixed 
and  various  matter;  it  attracts  and  attaches  itself  to 
that  alone,  which  is  similar  to  its  own  nature.  How 
often  do  we  see  this  exemplified  in  our  own  art,  by 
those  affected  connoisseurs  of  puny  intellect,  who  are 
Tnore  amused,  more  delighted,  with  a  highly  laboured 


ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  ARTIST.  igi 

picture  of  a  bunch  of  flowers,  in  which  insects  and 
drops  of  water  are  represented,  than  with  tlie  sub- 
limest  subjects  that  adorn  the  Vatican?  And  if  it  can 
be  supposed,  that  such  connoisseurs  have  any  real 
attachment  to  the  art,  they  will  clearly  discover,  by 
their  selection  of  pictures,  the  degree  of  their  intel- 
lect, their  taste  and  also  their  disposition. 

The  prevailing  character  operates  more  or  less  in 
every  action  of  the  man,  and  the  really  great  mind 
will  be  shown  even  from  the  minutest  object  of  its 
attention.  Of  this  nature  is  that  instance  of  Achilles 
when,  in  his  disguise  amongst  the  women,  he  could 
not  but  act  like  himself,  and  out  of  all  the  toys  and 
trinkets  which  were  exposed  before  him,  was  dis. 
covered  by  fixing  his  choice  on  a  sword. 

In  the  same  manner,  in  respect  to  the  arts,  exalted 
minds  are  known  and  displayed  by  tbe  reverence  they 
pay  to  all  those  works  which  tend  to  dignify  our 
species,  or  elevate  our  idea  of  its  rank,  value,  and 
importance;  while  they  receive  little  or  no  pleasure 
from  those  productions  which  familiarize  or  degrade 
it;  and  consider  them  only  as  the  pastimes  of  children^, 
or  feats  of  mechanical  dexterity. 

In  all  the  inferior  branches  of  the  art,  the  highest 
finishing,  as  it  is  called,  constitutes  their  highest 
value;  and  in  this  place  I  wish  to  make  an  observation 
on  the  article  of  finishing,  as  nothing,  perhaps,  demon- 
strates more  clearly  the  strength  or  weakness  of  the 
mind  of  the  painter  and  his  admirers.  Those  may  be 
said  to  finish  the  highest,  who  in  their  work  imitate  the 
characteristic  and  interesting  qualities,  and  properties 
only,  of  the  object  they  mean  to  represent;  and  not 
those  who  render  their  works  with  infinite  pains  and 
labours,  but  at  last  without  feeling,  energy,  or  charac- 
ter. In  judging  of  this  matter,  the  vulgar  commit  one 
of  their  grossest  mistakes,  in  not  making  any  distinc- 
tion between  judicious  finishing,  and  mere  labour :  or 
rather  in  giving  preference  to  the  latter;  thus  often 
esteeming  the  worst  picture  more  than  the  best. 
Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  hear  such  judges  say 


i5Z  VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

that  the  works  of  Deoner  and  Gerard  Dow,  are  more 
finished  than  those  by  Titian  or  Vandyke. 

Thus  far  I  have  endeavoured  to  describe  the  com- 
bination of  these  apparently  opposite  qualities,  which 
I  apprehend  are  required  to  make  a  great  painter; 
bold  and  firm  without  arrogance,  or  conceit;  humble 
yet  powerful ;  diligent  yet  energetic ;  laborious  but 
not  insipid.  He  endeavours  to  convey  his  sentiments 
to  the  heart  by  his  earnest  exertions  to  give  truth  of 
character,  beauty,  simplicity,  and  grandeur,  by  purity 
of  just  feeling,  and  without  self  applause,  vanity, 
aflfectation,  or  pretension  to  that  enthusiasm  which  he 
does  not  feel :  unlike  the  aims  of  such  painters  as 
Vasari,  Goltzius,  Sprangher,  Martin  Hemskerck, 
&c.,  who  appear  to  have  been  thinking  much  more 
upon  themselves  than  upon  their  work,  and  who  ex- 
pected to  become  its  rivals  for  our  astonishment  and 
admiration.  It  is  the  happiness  of  this  class  to  receive 
abundantly  their  own  applause,  and  that  applause 
alone :  whilst,  on  the  contrary,  Titian,  Holbein, 
Corregio,  and  Raffaelle  painted  from  the  heart.  It  is 
by  such  works  only,  that  the  heart  is  captured  :  and  it 
is  surely  not  presumptuous  to  say,  that  there  remains 
but  little  doubt,  that,  the  cultivating  and  encouraging 
the  higher  branches  of  painting,  in  which  they  excell- 
ed, it  would  become  as  eflPectual  means  as  any  we  are 
acquainted  with,  to  humanize  the  mind;  for  art  so  con- 
ducted draws  the  attention  of  the  idol  from  mischief, 
aifords  wholesome  relaxati«>n  to  the  busy,  instructs  the 
ignorant,  and  displays  examples  of  splendid  virtue 
which  may  direct  ambition  the  way  in  peaceful  paths 
to  fame  and  immortality. 


LIST 


OF  THE 

HISTORICAL  AND  FANCY  SUBJECTS, 

TOGETHER  WITH  SOME  OF  THE 

MOST  ILLUSTRIOUS 

AND 

EMINENT  PORTRAITS, 

EXECUTED  BY 

SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS 


Subjects.  Possessors.       Prices.  Engravers, 

(Guineas.) 

Angel  contemplating  1 

the  Cross,  bequeath-  v  Duke  of  Portland 
ed  to         -        -        J 

Ascension 

Calling  of  Samuel      -     Duke  of  Rutland  100  Dean,  1788 
Do.        do.         -         Duke  of  Dorset       50J.R.  Smith,  178S 
Do.         do.  -         Earl  of  Darnley     75  Delatre,  1784 

Do.        do.         -         C.  Long,  Esq.  C.  Knight,  1792 

Cornelia&herChildren  >  P  Wilkin^:  17QI 

(Lady  Cockburn)      S         '  l>.  Wilfcins,l/yi 

^Macbeth '''''  '"        I  ^'-  ^^3^^^"  100«  'Th^^ 

Cardinal  Beaufort"       ^  ^^Z^tl"  ^'^  ^^0  [  ^^,,,, 
DionysiustheAreopagite         -        -  Jenner,  1776 


15^ 


LIST  OF  PAINTINGS 


Subjects,  Possessors.      Prices.   Engravers. 

(Guineas.) 
Death  of  Dido :  for  Mr.  >  m,      .      rr-i  i  «^>/^  r^ 

Brvant  -         k  Marchs.  Thomond  200  Grozer 

Holy  Family:  500/.  to?  T     j  i-      j-  -r^rvixT  c^t.        -.-rr^r, 

Macklin,  sold  to        (  ^""'^  ^^^^^^"^         '^^  W-  Sharp,  1792 

Hercules  strangling      5  E,„__ggg  of  Russia  1500  S  "o^ges, 
the  Serpents  5  '^'"P'^^^^  ^^  *^"ssia  I5uu  j  ^-^^,^g^ 

InfantHerculesinCradleEarl  Fitzwilliam     150  Do.  do.  1793 
Infant  Moses  in  the     |  ^^^^^  ^^  ^eeds          125  S  i*  I^,^?"' 
Bulrushes         -         J  ^86,1791 

Duke  of  Rutland  100  Smith,  1775 
C  Marchi  & 
I  Sharp,  1783 

Duke  of  Rutland    1200      Earlom 


Infant  Jupiter 
King  Lear 

Nativity:  for  New 
College  window 

St.  John :  for  New 
College  window 
Do.    °        -         - 

St.  Michael  slaying  the  "1 
Dragon:  Copy  from  t 
Guido  J 

School  of  Athens,  from  > 
Raffaelle:  Copy        j 
Do.  travestied  :  now 
at  Straffan,  in  Ire- 
land 


Marchs.  Thomond 


1200 

Marchs.  Thomond 

—Willet,  Esq.         150  Grozer,  1784 

Marchs.  Thomond 
Do. 


1 


J.  Henry,  Esq. 


L^gohno  and  children  7  n  ^       e  r\       l 
*?    ,  1  „  r»  c  Duke  ot  Dorset 

in  the  Dungeon         5 

Virgin  and  Child:  left  >  T  t>       •  x      t? 
mifinished        -         ^  J.  Bannister,  Esq. 

Do.  do.  Earl  of  Egremont 

Young  Hannibal,  a  boy ") 

in  armour        -         ^  ' 


400  Dixon 
65 


C.  Townley,  1792 


Ariadne  -        -         \V.  Locke,  Esq. 

Bacchante,  portrait  ot  >  t^  i       ^  r^ 
Mad.Baccelli  ^  Duke  of  Dorset 

Do.  -  -  Sir  W.  Hamilton 

Bacchus,  portrait  of     7  t     j  n      i     ^ 
Master  Herbert         J  ^""^^  Dorchester 

Beggar  Boy,  with  Chilti  P  rk  1       fr^ 

&  Cabbage-nets        (  ^"''^  o^ Dorset      - 
The  Bird  .        . 

Boj  laughing  — Bromwell,  Esq.  50 


35  Doughty,  1779 
J.  R.  Smith,  1784 
50     Do.     do. 
75  Smith,  1776 


Hodges 
J.  Dean 


BY  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


155 


Subjects. 


Possessors. 


Boy  with  a  dog 
Do.  in  a  Turkish  dress 
Do.  with  drawing  in 

his  Hand 
Do.  with  Portfolio 
Do.  praying:  since 

sent  to  France 
Do.  eating  Grapes 
Do.  reading 
Boy's  School :  heads  of 
two  Master  Gawlers 
Captive:  has  been  cal-  ? 
led  Cartouche,  &c.   $ 
Captain  of  Banditti 
Careful  Sliepherdess 
Cardinal  Virtues,  and"^ 

four  others :  for  the    1**1,111  j 

New  College  Win-  ;>Maixhs.  Thomond 

J 


Prices.   Engravers. 
(Guineas.) 

-  Dean 

-  Do.  1778 


Duke  of  Dorset 
Earl  of  Warwick 
>  Mr.  Chamier 

Sir  H.  Engletield 


Rev.  W.  Long 
J.  Crewe,  Esq. 


50 

50 

50 

Spilsbury 
55  Hodges 

Smith,  1788 

g^C   Smith,   1777: 

l    &  Dean 
35 
Eliz.Judkins,1775 

Facius,  1781 


J.  Watsoix 

Facius,  1781 


S.  Rogers,  Esq. 
Earl  of  Aylesford 

>  Duke  of  Dorset 


dow 
Cselia  (Mrs.  Collyer) 
lamenting  her  Sparrow 
Charity:  for  New  Col- 
lege window 
Circe 

Children  in  the  Wood 
Child  with  Angels 
Child  sleeping 

Do.         do. 
Comic  Muse  (Mrs. 

Abingdon) 
Cleopatra  dissolving 

the  Pearl  (Kitty 

Fisher) 
Continence  of  Scipio 
Conway  Castle,  a 

Landscape 
Covent  Garden  Cupid 
Cottagers,  from  Thorn 

son,  for  Macklin 

Gallery 
Count  La  Lippe:  portrait  H.  R.  H.  Prince  Regent 

Master  Crewe  as  Ken-7  T   n  v  c;    vu   i-r-ti 

y  J.  Crewe,  Esq.  Smith,  17/6 


} 


Sir  C.  Bunbury      35 

Lord  Palmerstone  50  J.  Watson,  177i2 

Duke  of  Leeds 

Doughty,  1780 

Sherwln 

Fisher 

W.  Birch,  1790 
Dean,  1779 

Bartolozzi,  1784 


Lord  Borin^don 


vj  VIII. 
Cupid  and  Psyche 
(Miss  Greville  and 
brother) 
Do.        do. 


} 


C.  Long,  Esq. 
S.  Rogers,  Esq. 


250  Mac  Ardell,  1762 


156 


LIST  OF  PAINTINGS 


Subjects. 


Possessors. 


Duke  of  Leeds 


Cupid  in  the  Clouds 
Cupid  sleeping 
Cvmon  and  Iphigenia:"^ 

"the  last  fancy  piece   I  ^archs.  Thomond 

ever  executed  by  bir  [ 

Joshua  J 

Diana  (Lady  Napier) 

Do.     (Duchess  of 

Manchester) 
Edwin:  from  Beattie's 

Minstrel 
Faith:  for  New  College 

window 
Family  of  the  Duke  of 

Marlborough 
Fortitude:  for  New 

College  window 
Fortune  teller  (Lord 

and  Lady  Spencer) 
Garrick  between  Trag-") 

edy  and  Comedy :      | 

sold  to  J.  J.  Anger-  ^Earl  of  Halifax 

stein,  Esq.  for  250     j 

guineas  J 

Garrick,  as  Kitely 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick"^ 

sitting  on  a  garden 

seat,  and  Garrick 

reading  to  her  J 

Girl  with  Bird's -nest 
Do.  with  Bird-cage 
Do.  with  Muft" 
Do.  with  Cat  (Felina) 
Do.  with  Kitten 
Do.  drawing  (Miss     > 

Johnson")  \ 


Prices.   Engravers. 
(Guineas.) 

Dean 
Do.  1778 


55 


F.  Harward 


J.  Watson 


Facias,  1781 


700 


Do.      do. 


D.  of  Marlborough  Sherwin 


JOO 


{ 


T.  Watson 
&  Fisher, 
1762,  &c. 


Finlayson,  1769 


.Hon.  T.  Fitzmau- 
f     rice  150 

N.Desenfans,Esq. 
Duke  of  Dorset 
Marchs.  Thomond 
N.  Desenfans,  Esq. 
Marchs.  Thomond 


Jenner 
Collyer,  1790 
Bartolozz.i,  1787 

Grozer,  1790 


Do.  leaning  on  a  Pedestal  Visct.Palmerstone  75  Baldry 
Do.  laughing  —     -     .  - 

Gypsey  Fortune-teller 

Do. 
Gleaners  (Mrs.  Mack-> 
lin  &  Miss  Potts)      J 
Heads  of  angels:  study  ~| 

from  daughter  of  Lord  V-Lord  W.  Gordon   100 

William  Gordon         J 
Hebe  (Miss  Meyer) 


Earl  of  Lonsdale 
Duke  of  Dorset 
Marchs.  Thomond 

Mr.  Macklin 


350  Sherwin 


00 


Fi«her  &  Jacobi;,  1780 


BY  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


157 


Subjects.  Possessors.        Prices.   Engravers. 

(Guineas.) 

J.  R.  Smith,  1799 
Henry  Hope,  Esq.  160 


Lord  Holland 
Marchs.  Thomond 


J.  Harman,  Esq.  - 
Lord  Palmerstone 


Do.      1777 
Fisher,  1771 

Facius,  1781 

Grozer,  1788 

Hayward 

J.  Dixon, 1771 

Facius,  1781 


Sir  C.  Bunbury 


Hebe,  (Mrs.  Musters) 
Hope  nursing  Love 

Do. 

Do. 
Hope:  for  New  College 

window 
Innocence 
Infant  Academy: 

bequeathed  to 
Juno(  Lady  Blake) 
Justice:  for  New 

College  window 
Lady  Sarah  Bunbury 
sacrificing  to  the 

Graces 
Lady  with  Flowers 

L' Allegro  (Mrs.  Hale)    Lord  Harewood 
Landscape  Earl  of  Aylesford 

Do.  View  from  Rlch-l 

mond  Villa  y 

Lesbia  -        -        Duke  of  Dorset 

Ld.Sidney&Col. AckO  t,    i    m  ->  .,„ 
,,•'.,  >  Earl  or  Caernarvon 

land,  as  Archers        ^ 

Love  untying  the  Zone^ 

of  Beauty:  called  the  J>Earl  of  Carysfort  200  J.  R.Smith,  1787 

Snake  in  the  Grass  J 

Do.     do.  Prince  Potemkin     100 

Do.  do.  a  present  to     Henry  Hope,  Esq. 
Madona  -        - 

Marchioness  Towns-  "^ 

hend,  Mrs.  Garden-  '■ 

er,  and  Hon.  Mrs.      j  t     j  a*       t- 
X,        f     1    J  ^Lord  Mountjoy 

Berestord,  decora-     f  •'  •' 


Fisher 

Do. 

Watson, 


&c. 


50 


Jones  and  Birch 

75  Bartolozzi,  1788 


Blackmore 


450    T.  Watson 


ting  a  term  of  Hy- 
men 

Melancholy  (Miss  Jones)         -  -         - 

TheBlackguardMercury         -  -  Dean,  1777 

Miranda  (Hon.  Mrs.    "^ 

ToUemache)  and       r"  "        "  ^'  Jones,  1786 

Caliban  J 

Muscipula,  Girl  with  ?  Count  d'Adhemar    50  Jones,  1786 
Mouse -trap  ^  ' 

Nymph  (Mrs.Hartley)  5  ^^^j  ^f  Carysfort     - 
and  young  Bacchus  5 

Nvmph  and  Boy  J.J.  Angerstein,Esq, 

3  s 


Facius,  1781 


ids  I-IST  OF  PAINTINGS 

Subjects^  Possessors.       Prices.    Engravers. 

(Guineas.) 

Old  man's  Head  J.  J.  E(lri(lge,Esq.  J.  Watson 

Do.  reading  a  ballad    Duke  of  Rutland  Okey 

Omai,  the  Native  of     ?  t   -»»-   o<  i?  i      u-   itt- 

Q^^l^^j^^  W.  AV  .  Steers,  Esq.         Jacobi,  177/ 

Oxford  WindoAv  (a       >  v     i 

,     ,  ^  X  ^         >  -         -  tiarloin 

general  plate)  3 

Pouting  Girl  G.  Ilardinge,  Esq.     - 

Prudence:  for  New 

College  window- 
Puck  from  Midsummer^ 
Night's  Dream  :  done  S>S.  Rogers,  Esq.       100  Schiavonetti 
forAld.  Bovdell       J 
Resignation,  from         ~| 
Goldsmith's  deserted  I  TV,      1      r,,,  j     -r-   aa-  j.         ^^-'^ 

Village  (White  the    r-^archs.  Thomond      T.  W  atson,  17/  2 

Paviour)  J 

Robinette  (Hon.  Mrs.  ?  ^    1    r  t        11  t   t  i-tot 

rp  ,,        \    .  S- Earl  of  Lonsdale       J.  Jones,  1787 

lollemache)  3 

TBarnard, 

Shepherd  Boy  Lord  Irwin  50<;     Spilsburj, 

1^         1788 

Do.        -  -         Marchs.  Thomond 

Shepherdess  with  a  Lamb  Do.  -        -         J.  Grozer,  1784 

Shepherd  and  Shep-      2    y. 

herdesses  3         * 

Mrs.  Siddons  as  the     7  xx-  o    -^i    r?  -rrvnii  j  -,-0.^ 

rp  .,  $•  W.  Smith,  Esq.       700 Hayward,  1787 

Iragic  Muse  3  '       ^  .  >    < 

St.  Agnes  (Mrs.  Quar-^  d    -d  t^   -^u*  v^^  en  ^  Chambers, 
•    ^x     \^  >  R.  P.  Knight,  Esq. 50  ^  ,-„-..  T>  ..  i-   • 

rington)  3  &    '       1       ^178/  Betteluii 

St.  Cecilia  (Mrs.  Sher-"^ 

idan  and  two  Misses  ^R.  B.Sheridan,  esq.  loODickinson, 1776 

Purdons)  J 

St.   George   (Francis    ") 

Duke  of  Bedford  &  I  -         -  V.  Green,  1778 

brothers)  J 

St.  John  (Master  ^ 

Wynne,  now  Sir        ^  -        .  J.  Dean,  1776 

WatJvn  Williams)  J 
Strav.  bti  r^  Girl  Earl  of  Carysfort  50  T.  Watson,  1774 

Studious  Boy  P.  Metcalfe,  Esq.     D2:-n,  1777,  Smith 

Thais  Mr.Greville  ^^^  \l[,^79T''^' 

Temperance:  for  New  ?  -e,     ■       -,~o^ 

r,*\\  A  i-  -       •-  Facius,  1/87 

College  window         3 

Theory  of  Painting  Royal  Academy  J,  Grozer,  1785 

Do.  do.  Marchs.  Thomond 

Do.  do.  J.  Hughes,  Esq. 


BY  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


1;»9 


Subjects, 

Triumph  of  Truth 

(Dr-  Beattie) 
Two  Groupes  of  cele- 
brated Characters 

done  for  the 
Tuccia,the  Vestal  Vir 

gin,  from  Gregory's 

Ode  to  Meditation 
Venus  chiding  Cupid 

for  casting  Accounts 
Venus  do.  bequeathed 

to  tlie 
Do,  do.  painted  for 

Sir  B.  Boothby 
Venus  and  Boy  piping 
Una,  from  Spenser 

(Miss  Beauclerck) 
Wang-y-Tong,  a 

Chinese  Boy 


Possessors.*     Prices.   Engravevs. 
(Guineas.) 

Mrs.  Glennie  J.  Watson,  1775 

i-Dilletante  Society 

(-Mr.  Macklin  300 

^  EarlofCharlemont  100  ^  Jly']^^''-^'' 

y  E.  of  Upper  Ossory  J.  R.  Coilyerjl782 

>  Sir  T.  Bernard 
J.  J.  Angerstein,  Esq.  250 
Marchs.  Thomond  T.  Watson,  178?. 

Duke  of  Dorset  70 


Portraits. 
Archbishop  Markham 

of  York 
Robinson,  p 

mate  of  Irelan 


ri-> 

ndj 


Possessors. 


• — Burke,  of  Tuam 


Admiral  Barrington 

Boscawen 

Mrs.  Abington  Lord  Boringdon 

Bishop  Percy  of  Dr.omore 

Shipley  of  St.  Asaph 

Newton  of  Bristol     Abp.  of  Cauterbur 


Joseph  Barretti 
Archibald  Bower 
Edmund  Burke 
Do. 

Mr.  Chauncey 
Count  Belgroso 
Colonel  Tarleton 
Countess  of  Berkeley 
— — — Carlisle. 


Mrs.  Piozzi 


— Carter,  Esq. 


Engravers. 
C  Fisher  &  Wat- 
I     son, 1778 

Houston,  1765 

J.  R.  Smith,  1784 
Earlom,  1780 
Mac  Ardeil,  1757 
Judkins,  1772 
Dickinson,  1775 
Smith,  1777 
•y  Watson,  1775 
Hardy,  1794 
Faber 

J.  Watson,  1771 
Hardy,  1780 
Caroline  Watsoii 
Jacobi 

J.  Smith,  1782 
Mac  Ardeil,  1757 
J.  Watson,  177^ 


160 


LIST  OF  PAINTINGS 


Portraits. 

Countess  of  Corn wallis    - 

Coventry 

—Essex 

—Harrington 

Hyndfort 

Northumberland 

Pembroke  &  Son 

Two  Miss  Crewes 

First  Duke  of  Cumber 
land 

Late  Duke  of  Cumber-1 
land  J 

Duke  of  Bedford,  two  ~] 
brothers,  and  Miss  J> 
Vernon  J 

puke  of  Devonshire 

• Gloucester 

Marlborough 

Orleans 

York 


Possessors. 


Engravers, 
Do.     1771 
Do. 
Mac  Ardell 
V.  Gre.en,  1780 
Mac  Ardell 
Houston,  1759 
Dixon 
Do. 

Spooner 

T.  Watson,  1774 


Smith 

Faber,  1755 
Pr.  Sophia  of  Gloucester 

Houston 
Prince  Regent 


Honourable  Miss  Darner 

Dr.  Charles  Burney         Mrs.  Piozzi 

— John  Hawkesworth 

— Lucas 

— W.  Robertson 

— Joseph  AVarton 

Duchess  of  Ancaster 

Do.  -      - 

Duchess  ofBuccleugh 

—Cumberland 

Devonshire 

Gloucester 

Gordon 

Rutland  (Dow 

ager) 


J.  R.  Smith,  1786 
J.  Jones,  1790 
J.  R.  Smith,  1774 
Bartolozzi,  1781 
J.  Watson,  1773 
Mac  Ardell 
Dixon,  1772 
Smith,  1777 
Houston,  1758 
Dixon 

Ja.  Watson,  1775 
Do.  1777,  1790 
V.  Green,  1780 
Lady  Waldegrave  Mac  Ardell,  1762 
Dickinson,  1775 


Samuel  Dyer 
Earl  of  Albemarle 
Abercorn 

Bath 


V.  Green,  1780 


-Bristol(  Augustus.) 

-Carlisle 

-Dalkeith 

-Dartmouth 

-Gower 

-Mansfield 

-Moira 

-Pembroke 


Sir  Ridley  ColborneMarchi,  1773 
.        -          Fisher 
Dean 

Mac  Ardell,  1758 
Fisher 

Spilsbury,  1763 
-        -          V.  Green 
Spilsbury 
Fisher,  1765 
Bartolozzi,  1786 

DukeofYor]^         Jones,  1792 

5  Dixon,  Watson, 
l  1772 


BY  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


iOl 


Portraits.  Possessors. 

Earl  of  Rothes 

Strafford 

Mrs.  Fitzherbert 
Samuel  Foote 
Monsieur    Gautier       ") 
(done  at  Paris)        5 
Edward  Gibbon 

Oliver  Goldsmith  Mrs.  Piozzi 

Groupe  :  Lady   Sarah"^ 
Bunbury,  Lady  Su-  ! 
san  Strangeways,  &  j 
Charles  James  Fox   J 
Warren  Hastings 
Soame  Jenyns 

Samuel  Johnson  Mrs.  Piozzi 

Do. 
Do. 
Angelica  Kauffman 
Miss  Kembie 
Mrs.  Kennedy 
Lady  Bampfylde 
— —  Broughton 

Ahneria  Carpenter 

Chambers 

Elizabeth  Keppel 

' Louisa  Manners 

Melbourne  &  Child  Visct.  Melbourne 

Three  Ladies  Walde 


M.  Camden 


grave 
Lord  Amherst 

Anson 

Camden 

Do. 
Cardross  (Earl 

Buchan) 

Heathfield 

Hood 

Ligonier,   on 

horseback 
Rodney 

Do. 

Romney 

George  Seymour 

Lord  ChancellorThurlow 

Their  Majesties,  (two) Royal  Academy 

Giuseppe  Marchi  «- 


Marchs.  Thomond 


Engravers. 
Mac  Ardell,  1755 
Mac  Ardell,  1762 

Blackmore,  1771 

H.  Fess 

Hall,  1780 
Marchi,  1770 

J.  Watson 

T.  Watson,  1777 
Dickinson 
J.  Watson,  1770 
Hall,  1787 
Doughty,  1784 
Bartolozzi,  1780 
J.  Jones,  1784 
T.  Watson,  1771 

Do. 

Do.  1770 
J.  Watson,  1763 
Mac  Ardell 
Fisher 
V.  Green 
T.  Watson 

V.  Green 

J.  Watson 
Mac  Ardell,  1755 
Basire,  1766 
Ravenhill 

Mac  Ardell 

Earlom,  1788 
J.  Jones,  1783 

Fisher 

Dickinson,  1780 
J.  Watson 
Finlayson,  1773 
Fisher,  1771 
Bartolozzi,  178?. 
Various 
Spilsbury 


162 


LIST  OF  PAINTINGS. 


Portraits. 
Marquis   of  Abercorn  > 
(a  family  piece)  3 

■ Buckingham 

Gianbj 

Do.   do.  (with  a  horse) 
-Lansdowne, 


Possessors. 


} 


!ir  T.  Baring 


Duke  of  Bedford 


Lord  Ashburton  & 
Colonel  Barre 

Rockingl)am 

Tavistoc  k 

Tichfield 

Marchioness  of  Lothian 

Thomond 

Townsheiid 

Mrs.  Montague 

Nelly  O'Brien 

H.  R.  H.   the  Prince) 

Regent  ^ 

Princess  Augusta 

-  Sophia 
Rev.  Zachariah  Mudge 

Thomas  Warton 

Samuel  Reynolds,  S.  T.P. 
Of   Sir   Joshua  Rky-~ 

NOLDs    himself   the 

portraits  have  been 

so   numerous  as   to 

bid  defiance  to  enu- 
meration. These  are 

all  from  his  own  pen- 
cil, with  the  excep-  ^ 

tion  of  one  by  C.  G. 

Stuart,an  American, 

one  by  Zoftanii,  and 

one  by  Mr.   Breda, 
'     a   Swedish   painter. 

The  best  engravings 

are  by  J 

Sir  Joseph  Banks 

—  Charles  Bunbury 

—  William  Chambers      Royal  Academy 

—  John  Cust 

—  Charles  Saunders 

—  John  Wynne 

Do.  -        - 

Laurence  Sterne  Earl  of  Ossory 


Ensravers. 


Dickinson,  177f 
Houston,  1760 
J.  Watson 


Fisher 

J.  Watson,  1767 

Jenner,  1777 

Spilsbury 

V.  Green 
Pollard 
J.  Watson 

F.  Ha  ward,  1793 

Mac  Ardell,  1764 

J.  Watson 
Hodges,  1794 
Mac  Ardell 

V.   Green,  J. 
Collyer,  J.  Wat- 
son, C.Townley, 
I.K.  Sherwin,R. 
Earlom,  Pariset, 
Facius,    S.    W. 
Reynolds,  Caro- 
"^  line     Kirkley, 
Caroline    Wat- 
son, T.    Hollo- 
way,  and  the  por- 
trait  which    ac- 
companies  this 
work 

Dickinson,  1774 

Marchi 

V.  Green,  1780 

J.  Watson,  1769 

Mac  Ardell 

Dean 

Watson 

Fisher 


BY  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


163 


Portraits. 
Viscount  Downe 

Keppel 

Sackville 

Horace  Walpole 
Harry  Woodward 


Possessors. 


Engravers. 
Fisher 

Do.  1759 
Mac  Ardell 
Mac  Ardell,  IToT 
Houston 


Even  in  the  present  Exhibition  there  are  many  which  are  not 
here  enumerated;  and  there  are  also  many  others  expected:  so 
that  a  complete  List,  if  it  were  possible  to  procure  it,  would 
fill  a  volume. 

It  is  also  proper  to  notice,  that  several  of  these  here  enu- 
merated have  been  likewise  engraved  by  other  artists. 


INDEX. 


Academy  of  Arts,  first  rise  of,  44. 
Academy,  Royal,  established,  84. 

Accident  at  the  delivery  of  Sir  Joshua's  last  discourse,  28'8. 
Address,  poetical  one,  on  the  New  College  window,  217. 
Algiers  visited  by  Sir  Joshua,  23. 

Anecdotes,  of  Rev.  Thomas  Baker,  9;  Hudson  the  painter,  16; 
Alexander  Pope,  17;  William  Gandy,  19;   of  Sir  Joshua's 
father,  20 ;  Viscount  Keppel,  21, 25  ;  Astley  the  painter,  23  ; 
Roubiliac  the  sculptor,  29  ;  Sir  William  Chambers,  30;  Hud- 
son, his  old  master,  32  ;  Giuseppe  Marchi,  his  first  pupil,  ib. ; 
John  Stephen  Liotard,  S3  ;  Viscount  Keppel,  35  ;  Dr.  John- 
son, 37  ;   Miss  Cotterells,38j  Johnson,  39  ;   Roubiliac,  41, 
Samuel  Richardson  and    Dr.  Johnson,   42  ;   Johnson,  43, 
44  ;  of  Academy  of  Arts,  ib. ;  of  early  exhibitions,  48  ;  Gar- 
rick,  52  ;  Mrs.  Yates,  53  ;  Samuel  Foote,  54  ;  of  the  Mudge 
family,  55  ;  curious  one,  59  ;  Samuel  Beech,  a  pupil  of  Sir 
Joshua's,  61;  of  the  Literary  Club,  62;  of  the  Society  of 
Artists,  64;  of  Barry  the  painter,  76 ;  of  Mr.  Burke,  ib.; 
of  Mrs.   Collyer's  picture,  77 ;  Dr.  Farmer,  78  ;   Parry,  a 
pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  80;  Cotes  the  painter,  81 ;  Ramsay  the 
painter,  82;  Goldsmith,  85;  Dr.  Franklin,  90;  Barretti,  97; 
Charles  Gill  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  98;  of  negro  servant  of 
Sir  Joshua's,  99;  of  Dusign,  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  104;  of 
Pope's  fan,  ib.;  of  Caleb  Whiteford,  107;  of  Dean  Bernard 
and  Johnson,  109;  of  Johnson,  117,  &c.;  Mac  Ardell  the 
engraver,  ib. ;  of    Miss  Reynolds,  ib.  et  passim  ;   cff  Mr 
Locke,  125;  General  Paoli,ib. ;  curious  one  of  a  Macaw,  128  ; 
of  the  picture  of  Count  IJgolino,  143;  of  Dr.  Beattie,  154; 
&c.;  of  his  Majesty  and  Sir  Joshua,  160;  of  Dr.  Newton, 
162;  of  Dilletante  Society,  176;  of  Hone  the  painter,  178; 
of  Gainsborough  tiie  painter,  183  ;  of  William  Doughty,  a 
pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  187   ;  of  Vandyke,  l9l  ;  of  ayouno- 
painter,  202;  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  206;  of  Garrick,  208^; 
Drs.  Warton  and  Johnson,  214  ;  of  late  Lord  Asbburton, 
215  ;  of  Jervas,*the  painter  on  glass,  216 ;  scandalous  one  of 
Thais  refuted,  225  ;   of  Rubens,  226  ;   of  the  Dusseldorf 
Gallery,  227 ;  of  De  Gree  the  painter,  ib.  ;  of  Mr  Opie 
228  ;  of  Moser,  the  keeper  of  the  Royal  Academy,  234  :  of 
3    T 


1G6  INDEX. 

Lowe  the  painter,  236  ;  of  the  Literary  Club,  239  ;  of  Miss 

Reynolds  and  Johnson,  242  ;  generous  one  of  Sir  Joshua, 

247  ;   curious  one   of  Plympton  School,  ib.  ;   of  George 

Stevens  and  Sir  Joshua,  269 ;  of  Mr  Fox,  274  ;  of  Lord 

Heathfield,ib.  ;  of  Pack  the  painter,  275;  of  Gainsborough, 

ib. ;  of  Sir  William  Jones,  279. 
Astley,  John,  anecdotes  of,  26. 
Ashburton,  late  Lord,  anecdote  of,  215. 
Author,  first  becomes  acquainted  with  Sir  Joshua,  58;  first 

placed  with  Sir  Joshua,  114. 
Baker,  Rev.  Thomas,  anecdotes  of,  9. 
Barretti,  Joseph,  anecdote  of,  97. 
Barry  the  painter,  anecdotes  of,  76,  83,  90,  94,  163,  240,  242, 

253,  305. 
Beattie,l)r.  James,  anecdotes  of,  154, 155,  165,222,  264. 
Beach,  Samuel,  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  61. 
Beaufort,  picture  of,  animadversions  on,  270. 
Bernard,  L)ean,  anecdotes  of,  109. 
Blakeney,  General,  his  attentions  to  Sir  Joshua,  24. 
Bosvvell,  James,  notices  of,  116,  150,250,251. 
Boydell,  Alderman,  his  Shakspeare  Gallery,  269. 
Bunbury,  Lady  Sarah,  her  portrait,  69. 
Burke,  Edmund,  anecdotes  of,  76, 79, 192, 204;  his  obituary 

character  of  Sir  Joshua,  295,  303. 
Chambers,  Sir  William,  anecdotes  of,  30. 
Character  of  Honourable  Mrs.  P ,  written  by  Sir  Joshua, 

ISl. 

,  professional,  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  308. 

of  Rev.  Z.  Mudge,  written  by  Dr.  Johnson,  57. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  anecdote  of,  206. 

Collyer,  Mrs.  anecdotes  of,  77. 

Colouring,  mode  of  Sir  Joshua's,  observations  on,  182. 

Compliments,  poetical,  to  Sir  Joshua,  137,  262,  263, et  passim; 

282,  285,  306. 
Cotes  the  painter,  anecdotes  of,  81. 
Cotterells,  Miss,  anecdotes  of,  37. 
Cotterell,  Admiral,  anecdotes  of,  39. 
Cromwell,  Oliver,  anecdote  of  an  original  picture,  266. 
Cumberland,  Richard,  anecdote  of,  107. 
Cupid  and  Psyche  painted  by  Sir  Joshua,  36. 
Dedications  to  Sir  Joshua,  163, 173. 
De  Gree  the  painter,  anecdotes  of,  228. 
Devon,  county  of,  remarkable  for  producing  painters,  8, 
Dey  of  Algiers,  his  conduct,  25. 
Dilletante  Society,  notices  of,  176. 
Discourses  delivered  at  the  Academy  by  Sir  Joshua,  87,  100, 

111,  129,  140,  174,  198,  209,  213,220,  233,  254,  267,  277, 

287. 


INDEX.  m 

Doughty,  William,  anecdotes  of,  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  1 87. 

Dusign,apupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  anecdotes  of,  104. 

Dusseldorf  Gallery,  anecdote  respecting,  227. 

Early  specimens  of  Sir  Joshua,  13. 

Edgecumbe  family  patronize  Sir  Joshua,  21. 

Edgecumbe,  Lord,  letter  to,  27. 

Exhibitions  first  commence,  48. 

Exhibitions  of  Royal  Academy,  79, 93,  212,  222,  239,  248, 263. 

Epitaphs,  humourous,  leading  to  "  Retaliation,"  106. 

Fan  painted  by  Pope,  anecdote  of,  104. 

Farmer,  Dr.,  anecdotes  of,  78. 

Florence,  Sir  Joshua  sends  his  portrait  there,  178. 

Foote,  Samuel,  anecdote  of,  54. 

Fox,  Charles  James,  anecdote  of,  274. 

Franklin,  Dr.  his  Poem  on  the  Royal  Academy,  90. 

Funeral  of  Sir  Joshua,  298,  &c. 

Gainsborough  the  painter,  notices  of,  183,  &c.;  anecdotes  of, 

246,  275. 
Gandy,  William,  anecdotes  of,  54 ;  biographical  memoir  of, 

327. 
Garrick,  David,  anecdotes  of,  52,  53, 54,  53, 120, 172,  205, 209, 

— 211;  his  portrat  between  Tragedy  and  Comedy,  52. 
Gibraltar  visited  by  Sir  Joshua,  23. 
Gill,  Charles,  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  98. 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  anecdotes  of,  85,  100, 107,  108,  126,  127, 

128,  129,  137—143,  147,  167,  171,  172,  174,240. 
Heathfield,  Lord,  anecdote  of,  274. 
His  Majesty  and  Sir  Joshua,  anecdote  of,  160. 
Hone,  the  painter  anecdotes  of,  179. 
Hudson,  his  old  master,  anecdote  of,  16, 32. 
Idler,  three  papers  written  for,  by  Sir  Joshua,  45. 
Italy,  Sir  Joshua  proceeds  to,  24. 
Jervis,  Mr.,  the  painter  on  glass,  216. 
Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  anecdotes  of,  37,  39,  42,  43,  44,  45,  50, 

57,  69,  70,  84,  86,  109,  117,  118,  119,  420,  121,  122,  142, 

148,  172,  173,  177,  178,  180,  204,  205,206,  214,  224,  232, 

236,  239,  240,  241,  242,  250,  dies,  251. 
Jones,  Sir  William,  anecdote  of,  279. 
Kemble,  Miss,  poetical  compliment  on  her  portrait,  248. 
Keppel,  Viscount,  anecdotes  of,  21. 
Knighthood  conferred  on  Sir  Joshua,  86 ; 
Letter,  an  elegant,  one  to  Sir  Joshua,  151. 
Liotard,  John  Stephen,  anecdotes  of,  33, 
Lisbon,  visited  by  Sir  Joshua,  23. 
Literary  Club,  formation  of,  62  j  notices  of,  239,279. 
Locke,  Mr-,  anecdote  of,  125. 
Lowe,  the  painter,  anecdotes  of,  236. 


168  INDEX. 

Macaw,  curious  anecdote  respecting  one,  128. 

Marchi  Giusseppe,  his  first  pupil,  anecdotes  of,  32. 

MayoralitjofPlympton  conferred  on  Sir  Joshua,  150. 

Milton,  original  picture  of  discovered,  256,  257. 

Minorca  visited  by  Sir  Joshua,  24. 

Moser,  Mr.,  his  death  and  character,  234. 

Mudge  family,  anecdotes  of, ^55. 

Negro  Servant  of  Sir  Joshua,  anecdote  of,  98. 

New  College  Chapel  Window,  designs  for,  215. 

Newton,  Dr.,  anecdote  of,  162. 

Notes  for  Shakspeare,  written  by  Sir  Joshua,  71. 

Observations  and  fragments  of  Sir  Joshua,  196,  198,  &c. 

Opie,  Mr.,  anecdotes  of,  228;  his  character,  230. 

Pack,  Mr.,  the  painter,  anecdotes  of,  275. 

Painter  Stainer's  Company  elect  Sir  Joshua  a  member,  250. 

Paintings,  foreign,  of  Sir  Joshua,  and  their  exhibition,  292, 295. 

Painting  chair.  Sir  Joshua's,  given  to  Barry,  167. 

Parry,  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua,  anecdotes  of,  80. 

Pindar,  Peter,  his  compliments  to  Sir  Joshua,  232. 

Plympton  school,  curious  anecdote  of,  247. 

Pope,  Alexander,  anecdote  of,  17. 

Portrait  painting,  observations  on,  122. 

Preface  to  first  Exhibition  Catalogue,  written  by  Dr.  Johnson, 
50. 

Presidentship  of  the  Royal  Academy,  conferred  on  Sir  Joshua, 
85. 

Hamsay,  the  painter,  anecdotes  of,  82. 

IIeynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  birth,  8;  family,  10 — 11 ;  education,  12; 
early  specimens  of  painting,  13;  first  sent  to  London,  16; 
placed  with  Hudson,  the  painter,  ib.;  quits  Hudson,  18; 
settles  at  Plymouth,  19;  is  patronized  by  the  Edgecumbe 
family,  21 ;  proceeds  to  Lisbon,  23;  to  Gibraltar,  ib. ;  to 
Algiers,  ib. ;  to  Minorca,  24  ;  to  Italy,  ib. ;  arrives  at  Rome, 
25:  his  mode  of  life  whilst  there,  26;  letter  to  Lord  Edge- 
cumbe, 27?;  parv*Jies  the  School  of  RaffVielle,  29;  returns  to 
England,  by  Paris,  ib. ;  arrives  in  England,  31 ;  proceeds  to 
Plymouth,  and  paints  the  portrait  of  Dr.  Mudge,  ib. ;  returns 
to  tiie  metropolis,  and  settles  there,  ib. ;  fixes  his  residence  in 
Newport -street,  33;  paints  Viscount  Keppel,  35  ;  becomes 
acquainted  with  Dr.  Johnson,  37;  becomes  acquainted  with 
Richardson,  author  of  Clarissa,  42;  advances  in  fame,  44; 
writes  three  papers  for  the  Idler,  45;  removes  to  Leicester- 
fields,  48;  ])aints  Garrick,  betvveen  Tragedy  and  Comedy, 
52;  visits  the  west  of  England,  with  Johnson,  55',  the  author 
first  becomes  acquainted  with  him,  59;  his  mode  of  life,  60; 
increased  practice,  61 ;  assists  in  forming  the  Literary  Club, 
52;  painls  Lady  Sarah  Banbury,  69;  writes  notes  for  Shaks- 


INDEX.  169 

peare,  71 ;  revisits  Paris,  83 :  elected  President  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  85;  is  dubbed  a  knight,  86;  his  letter  to  Barry 
at  Rome,  94;  curious  anecdote  of,  99;  the  autlior  is  placed 
with  him,  114;  anecdotes  of  domestic  life,  society  &c.,  115; 
visits  Paris,  126;  criticism  on  his  paintings,  136;  for  his 
Discourses  see  under  that  head;  poetical  compliments  to 
him,  137;  paints  Ugolino,  143;  visits  Plymouth,  is  elected 
Mayor  of  Plympton,  150;  visits  Oxford,  and  is  admitted 
Doctor  of  Laws,  paints  Dr.  Beattie's  picture,  155,  &c. ;  pro- 
poses to  decorate  St.  Paul's,  l60;  loses  his  friend  Goldsmith, 
170;  sends  his  portrait  to  Florence,  178;  writes  the  character 
of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  P.,  181;  observations  on  his  mode  of 
colouring,  182;  observations  on  his  mode  of  drapery,  186; 
the  author  quits  his  tuition,  188;  professional  anecdotes,  192, 
193,  194,  195,  196,  ;  observations  and  fragments,  197; 
publishes  his  jfirst  seven  discourges,  201;  his  nice  discrimi- 
nation of  characters,  206;  ornaments  the  Academy's  apart- 
ments, and  paints  the  portraits  of  their  Majesties,  210; 
paints  the  designs  for  New  College  Chapel  window,  215} 
visits  the  Continent,225;  seized  with  a  paralytic  attack, 
231;  revisits  the  Continent,  243;  his  observations,  244;  adds 
notes  to  Mason's  translation  of  Du  Fresnoy,  ib. ;  anecdote 
of  his  own  early  practice,  ib, ;  interests  himself  for  the  in- 
crease of  Johnson's  pension,  250;  is  presented  with  the 
freedom  of  the  Painter  Stainers'  Company,  ib.;  loses  his 
friend  Johnson,  251 ;  obtains  an  original  miniature  of  Milton, 
255;  his  observations  on  it,  256;  attends  the  sale  of  paintings 
in  Flanders,  263;  paints  the  Hercules  for  the  Empress  of 
Russia,  264;  discovers  an  original  picture  of  Cromwell,  26G; 
paints  for  the  Shakspeare  Gallery,  2G9;  his  sight  I'ails,  279; 
differs  with  the  Royal  Academy,  and  resig  ,s,  280;  resumes 
the  situation  of  President,  286;  delivers  his  last  discourse, 
287;  exhibits  his  foreign  pictures,  293  ;  his  health  declines, 
294;  resigns  the  active  duties  of  the  Presidentship,  ib. :  his 
last  illness  and  death,  295;  his  character  by  Burke,  296;  his 
funeral,  298;  his  will,  304;  his  character,  with  concluding 
observations,  308. 

Reynolds,  Rev.  Samuel,  anecdotes  of,  20. 

Reynolds,  Miss,  anecdotes  of,  223,  243. 

Richardson,  author  of  Clarissa,  anecdote  of,  42. 

Rise  of  the  art  in  England,  8. 

Rome,  Sir  Joshua  proceeds  to,  25. 

Royal  Academy,  Sir  Joshua's  difference  with,  280, 286. 

Roubiliac  the  sculptor,  anecdotes  of,  29, 41,  42. 

Rnbens,  anecdote  of,  226. 

Russia,  Empress  of,  her  letter,  &c.  265. 

School  of  Raffaellfij  parodied  by  Sir  Joshua,  ?9. 


170  INDEX. 

School  house  at  Plympton,  with  an  engraving,  14. 

Score,  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua's,  209. 

Shakspeare,  Johnson's  edition  of,  70. 

Sheridan,  R.  B.,  his  poetical  compliment  to  Sir  Joshua,  211. 

Society  of  Artists,  anecdotes  of,  64. 

Society  of  Arts,  notices  of,  163. 

Sterne,  Laurence,  his  notices  of  Sir  Joshua,  52. 

Stevens,  George,  anecdote  of,  and  Sir  Joshua,  £69. 

Thais,  picture  of,  scandalous  anecdote  refuted,  225. 

Tucker,  Dean,  observation  of,  207. 

Ugolino,  Count,  painting  of,  with  illustrative  anecdotes,  143. 

Vandyke,  anecdote  of,  191. 

Viscount  Keppel,  anecdotes  of,  with  reference  to  his  portrait, 

35. 
"Warton,  Dr.,  his  quarrel  with  Johnson,  214. 
VN'hiteford,  Caleb,  anecdote  of,  107. 
Yates,  Mrs.,  anecdote  of,  53. 
Zoffanii  the  painter,  anecdote  of,  247. 


VARIETIES  ON  ART. 

PAGE. 

Dream  of  a  painter                -             -             -             _  3 

The  Painter  and  Philosopher             -            -            -  21 

The  Slighted  Beauty             ....  29 

On  Originality,  Imitators,  and  Collectors       -            -  107 

Letter  from  a  Disappointed  Genius              -            -  115 

Independence  of  Painting  on  Poetry           -            -  119 

Second  Letter  from  a  Disappointed  Genius               -  129 

Imitation  of  the  Stage  in  Painting                 -            -  137 

Advice  to  a  Young  Artist                  .            .            _  145 

LIST  OF  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS'S  WORKS. 
THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  Is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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